A Sparrow's Daughter
by Anlei
Summary: Annabelle, at the age of 13 lost her most of her memory and became a maid in the Norrington household. Now, as she searches for the memories she lost and truth about her heritage, it takes her for the ride of her life to find the man she believes to be h
1. Prologue

A Sparrow's Daughter By Anlei  
  
Prologue  
  
Nearly twenty years ago, I came into this world just outside a small port in Spain by way of two midwives in the backroom of a bustling tavern. Wailing loudly, I was placed into the weary arms of my mother, a woman named Anamaria. I was told later that she had cried along with me and said, "Hello there Annabelle, I'm your mama." Annabelle (or Annie as she called me) Sparrow. Sparrow was the only last name she ever gave me. It was a name she hadn't even taken herself.  
  
She was a hard woman, a pirate from a small Caribbean isle known as Jamaica. I never knew much about her past only that once she realized she was to have a child that she relocated to Spain. She told me once that her father was from there and when she was very young he used to take her sailing along the Spanish Coast. A love for the sea has always been in her blood. And I suppose that is why I have always loved it.  
  
Since the moment of my birth it had always been just my mother and I. I never knew my father and she rarely spoke of him, if at all. After she had healed and felt strong enough we moved into a small house just off the coast with a woman named Frida, a cousin of my mothers'. There I had my first swimming lessons. Early in the morning before my mother had to leave for work she would wake me. We would eat small; it was never wise to eat a large breakfast before going swimming. Then before Frida would awaken (she'd have a fit if she knew we were swimming in our undergarments) we'd slip out the back, down a small pathway, and to the silvery waves crashing down upon the empty beach. It seemed that I had been swimming as long as I had been walking. It was one of my first memories, the ones that I can remember...but I jump ahead of myself.  
  
Afterwards, we'd lie down and soak up the sun, letting the rays rejuvenate our limbs. Then we'd quietly go back to the house. By then Frida would awaken and prepare a proper breakfast for us while complaining about the water dripping on her wood floors. My mother would roll her eyes and usher me into our room. After we dressed, she would tie my hair back in a braid. I'd look at her in the mirror seeing her face and mine in the reflection.  
  
"You look so much like him..." She'd say some times. "Who, mama?" I'd ask.  
  
"No one, now go downstairs and eat."  
  
I did as I was told. Then she'd go off to work, coat and hat in tow, dressed like a man. My mother was never a lady and she never tried to be one. She never tried to make me into one either. It was Frida that put me in dresses and taught me proper manners.  
  
"I won't have you disgracing yourself like your mother does." She'd say.  
  
One morning, just after I celebrated my seventh birthday, I awoke to an empty room and angry voices from below. Quietly, I slipped out of bed and made my way down the stairs. I hid behind the door to the kitchen and when I peeked inside I say my mother and Frida enaged in a fierce argument. The way they fought reminded me of two hissing snakes rearing to strike one another. Apparently, my mother had chosen to go back to the Caribbean and I was to go with her. My mother could only belong to the sea. She felt that she was away from it for too long.  
  
"You'll make her out to be just like you! She won't respect anyone or anything! A ship is no place for a young girl to grow up, it isn't proper!" I remember Frida yelling, her pudgy face swelling in anger.  
  
She reminded me of a bright red tomato. My mother folded her darkened brown arms over her chest and glared. It was a look my mother had never shown before.  
  
"She's my kid and she goes where I go! What need does she have to be a proper lady?" My mother spat, the words "proper lady" seemed to sting her tongue.  
  
The look on Frida's face was a mixture of horror and fury. Ever the proper woman, who understood her place in society all too well, could barely stomach the way my mother lived her life. It was bad enough that I was born out of wedlock. The fact that my mother usually made her living on a ship surrounded by society's less than honorable men made her want to vomit.  
  
"How do you expect her to live in civilized society? She'll be ridiculed by every one she comes across! She'll never marry and end up shamed! How can you condemn her to that?" She retorted angrily.  
  
"I don't give a rat's ass about civilized society! My daughter doesn't need to be locked up behind a petticoat and lace for the rest of her life like you! If she's to be condemned to anything, it's to live life the way she wants to!"  
  
"It's revolting the way you allow that child to run around as if she were a boy! Who would want such a wild child as a daughter-in-law?"  
  
"Is marriage all that matters to you? Would you have her spend her life preparing just to become some lowly house wife?"  
  
"It is an honor to be a wife! An honor you'll never have, I see!"  
  
"Neither will you, it seems! You'll spend the rest of your days bitter and alone! My daughter won't!"  
  
I never saw Frida's expression at that moment (but I had imagined it looked like a firecracker waiting to explode) because my mother began storming towards the door. I jumped and ran as fast as my legs could carry me back to our room, pretending as if I'd heard nothing. Though, I'm sure she knew. She smiled and kissed my forehead as if nothing was wrong. She told me to get dressed while she packed our things. I did as I was told and soon after we were out the door and walking up the road to town. My mother held steady to my hand and never looked back. I took one more look at the small, white house that had been the only home I had ever known. Then turning around I came face to port and what seemed then to be one of the biggest ships I had ever seen bobbing in the distance.  
  
My mother had been working hard so that she and I could sail to Port Royale then to Tortuga where she planned on buying a ship and finding the right crew to man it. After boarding we settled into a tiny room with just enough space for a bed and wash basin. We then went out to the deck and said our goodbye's to Spain. I looked up to my mother. She was smiling, her face tilted in the sun with her eyes closed, enjoying the breeze. I watched as she took a deep breath full of salt air and come to peace. On the ocean was where she truly belonged.  
  
I stood on the deck with her until the shore faded entirely from view. I felt something tug at my young heart then. I had the distinct feeling that I would never see Spain again. I suppose it held no real value other than it was the place that held so many memories for me...memories that would all too soon fade until they were nothing but remnants of feelings and emotions.  
  
"Come on, Annie Sparrow. Time for lunch." My mother's voice interrupted my thoughts as she took my hand and led me back to the cabin.  
  
The ride over to Port Royale seemed to take ages. I spent much of my time roaming the ship whenever I got the chance. I would pester the cook, the sailors, and the nearly every member of the crew until they grew weary of me. I was reprimanded later for my actions by my mother (who they threatened to throw overboard if she didn't control me). I could hardly help myself. I had never been on such a large ship before. I was fascinated the moment I stepped foot upon the creaking wood. She taught me everything about ships then.  
  
"Soon Annie, I'm gonna have a ship of my own. I'll be captain and I'll take you all over the world. And you can run around in breeches instead of those dresses Frida made you wear. We'll have nothing to worry about, Annie. Just us and the open sea."  
  
She confessed this to me one evening while brushing my hair. She sounded so wistful and impassioned that I hung onto her every word. I had grown to love the sea so much that a life on it seemed ideal. And for a while this had become my life.  
  
Once we arrived in Port Royale we had to take another ship to Tortuga. Very few ships in those times would travel to that port and it was easily understood why. Rumored to be the town of thieves, killers, whores, and pirates, civilized folk never journeyed there. Yet it was there that we found ourselves there looking for a ship. I noticed a change in my mother then. She seemed more relaxed among these people. I noticed her joking around and laughing even swearing like a man around them. She could have never done so in our home in Spain.  
  
One man she met, a fellow by the name of Gibbs treated her to a drink. I remember being taken into the tavern bustling with brawls and drunken commotion and shrinking back against my mother. I had never seen people carry on the way these people did. She kept me close for even though my mother loved Tortuga, she held little trust for the people in it. The pistol tucked away in her sash attested to that.  
  
We sat in a small table in the back while Mr. Gibbs provided himself and my mother with a pint. She sat me on her knee while they spoke.  
  
"I thought I'd never see you again, what with that goodbye and all..."  
  
"Aye...I thought myself gone for good. But I can never stay away from the open sea. It's my one true home."  
  
"Best place for a pirate to get a ship is here in Tortuga. And a crew fit for our types."  
  
"Which is why I'm here."  
  
"How long will you be?"  
  
"A few days at most. Tortuga is no place for Annabelle right now."  
  
"Annabelle, eh?"  
  
"Aye, Annie for short."  
  
Gibbs took a look at me and I shrunk back against my mother. Then he gave me a small smile.  
  
"I'll be damned if you aren't the spittin' image of your mama!"  
  
I noticed then they both got a bit quiet. I could feel the tension rise. Mr. Gibbs looked hard at my mother.  
  
"She be the reason you left the Pearl then?" He asked and I could feel my mother go rigid against my back. My interest peaked then.  
  
"Aye...she is. The Pearl is no place for her."  
  
"But I gather your ship will be."  
  
My mother let out a deep breath before taking a swig of rum.  
  
"It will be as long as she is with me." Her tone was hard. She was getting angry. She never had much patience for those who questioned her. Silence prevailed over conversation again. How strange that it seemed to be louder than any noise in the room.  
  
"That's not the real reason you left, is it?" He asked pushing a subject my mother had tried to forget ever since I was born.  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
"Do you think me blind, lass? I can see him looking at me through her eyes!"  
  
My mother tightened her grip on me. I tilted my head to look at her and saw her features harden into a deep scowl.  
  
"Annie is my child. Make no mistake in that! My decision to leave the Pearl was my own. We've been fine without him for all this time-!"  
  
"Because he doesn't know! How can you keep this from him Maria?"  
  
"Are we talking about the same man? Do you honestly think Jack Sparrow, Captain of the Black Pearl, Mr. "I'm so drunk and all I love is whores and the Pearl", could be a father to anyone? I won't have my Annie go through that!"  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow? That was his name? Was this pirate really my father?  
  
"You got no right to keep him from his own daughter!"  
  
"I got every right! He's fine not knowing anyhow! Besides...one night shouldn't change the way everything is!"  
  
"It already has, whether you want it to or not!"  
  
My mother lifted me off her lap then and set me on my feet next to her. Standing up she finished the last of her rum then replaced her hat and coat on before taking my hand.  
  
"It's good to see you, Mr. Gibbs. But I'll be taking my leave of you now. Annie is tired and needs her rest." Her voice was colder than her words. And I was anything but tired. I wanted to know more, I wanted to know about my father. She didn't wait for him to say anything more and with my hand in hers quickly walked to the inn. I looked over my shoulder and saw Mr. Gibbs watching us go. He looked crestfallen as we walked out the door. That was the last time we saw him in Tortuga.  
  
The next day my mother took me to scour all the docks in Tortuga for the perfect ship. Finding the one she wanted after hours of searching she bought it, The Hydra. It took longer to find the right crew but after nearly a week we were back on the ocean again. And I waved goodbye to Tortuga while my mother manned the ship.  
  
The passing of six years came quickly. It seemed as if night and day flew by like hours. I had grown to be less of a proper woman and into more of the pirate as time went on. I never wore dresses or tied my hair back in a bonnet. I ran around barefoot learning card games with the crew and picking up a few swear words along with it. I was as improper as they came but I fit right in. My mother was right. The ocean was the only place for me, away from frills and lace. I'd never be happy any other way.  
  
We saw so many places and learned so many things. We had traveled up the Atlantic and back doing what pirates do best. Of course, I was to stay on the ship with the cook while they raided for loot. Every time I would beg to go and of course my mother denied me each time.  
  
"Why can't I go? I'm as brave as they are!" I'd cry. "I know you are, Annie Sparrow, but not until you're older." She'd say every time.  
  
In the end I remained but when she returned she'd always bring me back something to make me smile. One evening she returned with a pistol promising that in a few years she'd teach me how to use it along with a sword. I'd be as fierce as they come. But that lesson never came.  
  
One night during my thirteenth year of life I was awakened from my sleep by the sound of a cannon firing. The entire ship rocked and I was thrown from my bed. Jumping to my feet I ran to the deck to see what was happening. The entire crew was awake and running frantically about. I saw swords drawn and guns cocked and a battle raging before me. The naval fleet had finally caught up with us.  
  
I was afraid. It looked as if the crew was outnumbered and the ship was falling to pieces. I began scanning for my mother but in all the commotion I could hardly see her. I screamed as another cannon fired and pummeled the ship. More sailors poured onto the Hydra and took down more of the crew members. Scrambling to my feel I ran through the battle, calling for my mother. I reached the middle of the deck when I saw her at the helm. She was dueling a naval sailor. I began to make my way to her when I saw the sailor's sword pierce her body. I stopped dead in my tracks as blood spilled from her wound. Time seemed to freeze at that moment to sear that image into my mind. He withdrew and she fell to the deck floor.  
  
I cried out to her, wanting to run to her but before I could move something hard had collided with my head and all went dark as I fell to the floor. Blood spilled from my wound onto the darkened wood and it seemed so did my memories...  
  
I had lost them...  
  
The only thing after the attack that I recall was waking later, my head screaming with pain, in what appeared to be an infirmary. My vision was blurred and I heard muffled voices around me. I could feel the itchy sheets around me but I couldn't move. It was like my body had forgotten how to work. I felt two gentle hands moving me into a sitting position and forcing something foul down my throat. I coughed and sputtered, trying to force it back out. My throat felt too dry to swallow anything.  
  
"Now, now young miss. Don't fight it. You'll feel better, I promise." A gentle voice promised. I had tried to speak but I felt myself slipping back into sleep.  
  
The next day was easier. I was fully awake and able to move but my head throbbed with every move I made. I was confined mostly to my bed anyway. A young nurse would visit me often to make sure that I was comfortable or feeling well. Later on, she was accompanied by a well dressed man. He said his name was James Norrington, a commodore. He sat on my bed and asked me how I was. I would answer his questions not understanding why he wanted to speak with me.  
  
When he entered, he had two other officers with him. They seemed unsure of what to do with me. I was a pirate after all, even if I was a child. He gave a short smile, not the kind that spread across his entire face, but a controlled smile, a polite one.  
  
"Tell me, do you remember your name child?"  
  
"I'm...I'm...Annie...Annabelle...I think..."  
  
I frowned then. Just what was my name?  
  
"And your parents, who are they?"  
  
Images flashed through my mind of a dark skinned woman dressed as a man, images of swimming, and visions of the sea before it all went blank. I felt that this woman in my mind was my mother yet I couldn't remember her name.  
  
"I don't know...I can't remember."  
  
He gave me a cursory glance before speaking.  
  
"What about your home, Annabelle, do you remember where that is?" He asked.  
  
I noticed that he spoke in a very proper, authoritative tone. He was a man that gave orders but didn't receive them. I remember the sound of his voice reminding me of a woman...a pudgy, stone faced woman who used to scold me. But what was her name? How did I know her? Again, it eluded me.  
  
"I can't remember..."  
  
"What do you remember before now, Annabelle?"  
  
It sounded so strange for him to call me that. Annie sounded more natural but why? I tried to think back.  
  
A boat, swimming on the shores of Spain, a white house, the same dark skinned woman, a ship leaving port, a dirty street, a kindly old sailor...a battle, screaming for my mother...so much blood...mama...  
  
"I can't remember anything, where is my mama? Why hasn't she come for me?" I asked, feeling afraid. What if the woman in my head was my mother? That meant she was dead. But no...my mother couldn't have been dead. That meant I was alone...  
  
By their silence the cold realization had settled in. My mother was dead. And I was alone. I remember my heart racing, wanting to panic but never doing so. I felt that if I panicked I would make it all too true. I didn't want it to be true.  
  
Commodore Norrington stood up from my bed and quietly addressed the officers. I watched as they talked softly amongst themselves.  
  
"It would seem, sir, that she has no memory. She must know nothing about her life with the pirate ship."  
  
"All is well then, she has no memory of a less than reputable heritage."  
  
"What shall we do with her, sir? Will she be hung with the others?"  
  
"For God's sake, she's just a child!"  
  
"A child with pirate blood!"  
  
Norrington turned while the other two officers argued to look back at me. I wondered what they were speaking of. I noticed something shift in his face as he took in the tears in my eyes before turning back to the others. He released a deep sigh before saying, "I will take her. She can work off her debt in my household as a maid."  
  
"Sir! You can't be serious!" cried one of the officers  
  
"I am, Captain Merrick." He replied calmly  
  
"Are you sure about this Commodore?" asked the second officer  
  
"Yes, tell the nurse to ready her things." The officer nodded and did as he was told.  
  
"But she is a pirate sir!"  
  
"She is but a child, one that can be reformed to behave properly in polite society."  
  
The discussion was closed and Norrington turned to me, his features softening significantly. But just as quickly as it did, the stern aloof expression replaced the fleeting look of concern.  
  
"You will be leaving today." He said. "Where am I going?" I asked, afraid. "I am taking you to my home. There you will be a maid in my house." He spoke so plainly, as if telling the weather. I remember shaking in my bed. I did not know this man. And I was being forced to live with him.  
  
"I don't want to be a maid! I want my mama!" With a sigh he lowered his eyes then turned to stare out the window. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he spoke to me. "Child, unless you can tell us who your mother is she may very well be dead and that leaves you an orphan. Now you will either accompany me to my house, where I promise you will have food and a warm bed to sleep in or you will wander the streets, alone and hungry. Surely, you do not want this fate." He said in a mater of fact tone of voice that irritated me. I could feel the hot tears stinging my eyes. No...my mother wasn't dead...she couldn't be...why hadn't she come to get me?  
  
I swallowed my tears. He was right even if they words hurt. I was alone. There was no one claiming me. I knew then that I had no where else to go. And the idea of going hungry on the streets was less than appealing to a young, thirteen year old girl. I resigned myself then to my fate. I slowly nodded my head in agreement. The nurse shooed the officers away and I was dressed and readied to leave. She smiled kindly at me.  
  
"The Commodore is a fine man, you'll see. You'll be well cared for." She assured me though I hardly believed her then. Never the less I was taken to his house where I was to spend years of my life, living in a strange place with a head full of botchy images but nothing connecting them. It wasn't until I had turned twenty that things began to fall back into place.  
  
AN: Constructive criticism is always welcome! Please let me know what you think. 


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with Pirates of the Caribbean. This is for my own pleasure...although it would be pretty nice to have  
  
A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter One  
  
Annabelle's dark eyes opened to the sunlight pouring into her room. The sun had just risen and its bright rays were stirring the sleeping household of Norrington to awaken and begin their day. She closed her eyes again, inhaling deeply the scent of the ocean wafting through her open window. She greeted the mornings in the same way she had every day for nearly seven years. She pushed herself out of bed and moved toward the window, wishing from there she could see the ocean. But the sounds of the waves were enough to calm her, assuring her that even though she could not see it, it was still there.  
  
With a sigh she turned away walking toward her wash basin. Another night, the same dream...  
  
Tirelessly over the vast bright blue sea flew a bird. The wind underneath its wings and the sun on its feathers seemed to fuel its energy to keep it flying. Its wings pumped harder and harder until it soared high overhead. It never tired. It never searched for a place to land. It only needed the open air and the ocean.  
  
She'd only begun to have the dream for a few weeks now. Her memory was still a blur as it was when she first arrived in Port Royale but pieces had over time connected themselves like parts to a large puzzle. But the dream of the bird was something she couldn't seem to place. Yet it seemed so familiar to her. It drove her mad that she couldn't remember everything. And it was beginning to cost her a good night's sleep. Commodore Norrington had told her that she suffered a serious blow to hear head when she was just thirteen. He found her aboard a ship. He never told her the name of it. Only that it had been destroyed long ago.  
  
She barely remembered being on the ship but she knew it had to do with her mother. She closed her eyes and tried to remember her. Only recently had memories of her mother surfaced. She remembered bits and pieces from Spain, living with their cousin Frida, swimming...but that was all. The rest was just too muddled to sort through.  
  
It was one of the many mysteries in her life. Another one being that of her father. As far as she could remember, she never knew him. There were hints of her mother telling tales of him. But it was another thing her mind had locked away long ago. Yet she felt that the connection with the bird was something to do with it. After washing she dressed and moved to her mirror.  
  
She had to admit that living as maid in the Norrington household was far better than a life on the streets would have been. She had her own room, a fairly nice room at that. It was nicer than the room she lived in the white house in Spain, larger too. But deep in her heart she knew that it wasn't home to her.  
  
"We'll have nothing to worry about, Annie. Just us and the open sea."  
  
Where had that come from? She wondered. She closed her eyes and tried to think. Images of a rust colored sunset...and a ship gliding toward it. The warmth of whispered words on her ear...and then...nothing. Annabelle huffed in frustration. It seemed that ever time she got close to remembering something her mind would shut its doors to her.  
  
She picked up the brush and began to go through her dark, black hair. She could easily see her mother's image looking back at her from her reflection. Yet, she noticed that some features were there that simply did not remind her of her mother at all. Looking deeply at her image she tried to find an image of her father. But it was all in vain. She had never seen the man; there was nothing to go by.  
  
"Annabelle, you silly girl." She muttered to herself aloud. "You have work to do." She quickly finished her hair, tucking it back into a braid, before tucking all of it under the maid's cap she wore. Standing up she walked towards the kitchens to help prepare breakfast. She never felt comfortable in the dress Norrington had provided for her. But she was a woman, he told her, and that was how a woman dressed when she complained the breeches were much more comfortable. She had grown used to petticoats and full skirts but she never liked them.  
  
Making her way to the kitchens, she saw a few of the other maids and servants already awake and preparing for the day. One of them being Clara: an older woman who looked after Annabelle and resided as the head of the Norrington Household. She smiled warmly before shoving a plate of food in Annabelle's hands. "Eat quickly, my dear. We have quite a few things to do this morning." Annabelle nodded while sitting down to eat.  
  
She watched Clara bark orders to some of the lazier workers. She was in no mood for trouble today. The lady of the house was in a bad mood therefore everyone else suffered a foul disposition too. Though many saw Clara as a slave driver, Annabelle saw her as a hard worker. That is how Annabelle viewed her ever since she first came to her new home.  
  
Annabelle was distraught over the sudden change in her life. Her memory in pieces and feeling so utterly alone she was quick to tears at any given moment. But Clara took her aside, comforted her and told her that if she was going to get over this she needed to dry her eyes and get to work. While not the gentlest of words, they served their purpose.  
  
"I see you woke late again this morning. This will not do, miss." She reprimanded gently.  
  
"I'm sorry, Clara. I had a bit of trouble sleeping." She admitted quietly. She never told anyone about the dreams.  
  
Clara sighed shaking her head. "Be that as it may, the household still wakes with the sun every morning, my dear. You cannot sleep in while the rest of us are working!" Giving Annabelle a smile, she removed the empty plate. "And it's going to be another long day, I'm afraid. Mrs. Norrington is in one of her moods."  
  
Annabelle resisted the urge to groan. She moved to her feet and was immediately handed a tray. "So, I take it Mr. Norrington is taking breakfast in his study again?" She asked. Clara nodded.  
  
"What do you expect? He'd rather eat alone that have another row with that woman. She has the forked tongue of a snake she does." Clara whispered. If any of the other servants heard her speak like Clara would easily live to regret it.  
  
Still holding the tray, Annabelle waited until Clara finished arranging everything before she was pushed out the door.  
  
"Go on, child. See if you can cheer him up a bit. You know the effect you have on him." Clara walked hurriedly back into the kitchen leaving Annabelle alone in the hall. With a sigh she began walking towards the study. While she admitted that Commodore Norrington showed a gentler side to her than he did with others, his temper paid no attention to who it targeted.  
  
Gathering her strength she knocked on his door. "Mr. Norrington, sir?" She called shyly.  
  
"What is it?" He practically roared from inside. Annabelle found herself shrinking back away from the door.  
  
"I have your breakfast tray." She half expected him to shout a dismissal from his door step.  
  
"Very well, you may enter." He called, the patience waning from his voice.  
  
Cautiously, she opened the door and stepped inside. His back was toward her and he made no move to even acknowledge her presence. Oh my, this can't be good...she thought as she arranged the tray on a small side table. He'd usually speak to her when she walked into the room, even if he was angry.  
  
While she removed the lid to his plate and poured his coffee she wondered what could have happened between him and Mrs. Norrington. It seemed they were just ill matched for each other. She couldn't remember a time when they weren't fighting over something or other. And the boys had only gotten caught in the middle most of the time. However, despite how unstable the family seemed no one could accuse Norrington of being an unloving father. He doted on his two sons as any father should.  
  
Annabelle sighed and looked over at him. His figure was bent over his desk, deeply engrossed in the paper work before him. Despite their social positions Norrington had always treated her with respect and kindness. Unless of course he was around his wife who couldn't fathom how her husband would associate so beneath his status. Servants were to be seen and not heard in her opinion. When Annabelle first arrived she made it quite clear how displeased she was with her husband's idea of charity.  
  
"My dear, if you please would remove your head from the clouds." Norrington's voice jolted her from her musings and she nearly knocked over the pitcher on the tray. Blushing, she looked down at her feet.  
  
"Begging your pardon, sir." She replied quietly.  
  
She heard him release a small sigh and chanced a look at him. He was standing before her with an expression of mild irritation and slight concern. "Where is your mind this morning, Annabelle?" He asked moving to seat himself in front of the food. She moved away, fearing anymore movement close to the tray would send the entire thing to the floor.  
  
She shot him a shy smile. "Where it always is, sir." He returns the smile before moving for his coffee.  
  
"In the air, of course. My, however do you manage to complete your chores before the day is over?" He asks teasingly.  
  
"With much concentration." She replies in mock distress.  
  
"So it would seem. Now what's this I hear about your lack of sleep during the night?"  
  
Stunned, Annabelle frowned questioningly at him. How could he know? Then it dawned on her. Clara must have told him. Since she was young there was worry of permanent damage to her mind. When she arrived at the household Clara was assigned to keep watch of her in case anything was to happen, anything that would warrant medical help. Some habits never change.  
  
She bit her bottom lip, a habit she'd always had when she wanted to hide something. "It's nothing, sir. I'm sure Clara means well but there is nothing to worry about." She replied, hoping he didn't see through her. Of course, he did.  
  
"Lying does not become you, Annabelle, besides you're terrible at it." His face was stern but his words were gentle. With a sigh she cast her gaze away from his prying eyes to the window and to the distant sea.  
  
"Truly, sir, I suffer from no maladies...just the reoccurrence of a dream only." A dream indeed. A dream she'd revisited night after night for nearly two weeks. Norrington studied her. Her posture was rigid meaning she did not want to pursue the subject matter further. He allowed it to slide.  
  
"Very well, never the less you must make sure you get some rest during the night." He chided softly. It was at moments like these that Annabelle felt something tug inside her. She was his maid yet he made her feel as if titles were not important. He cared for her like she was one of his own.  
  
"Will you be needing anything more of me, sir?" She asked, ready to go about her work.  
  
"Indeed I do, Annabelle. I have a sword order that is waiting for me at the smithy. As it is I am unable to go there myself, I'll need you to go for me. The payment is on my desk there." He ordered, returning to his meal.  
  
"Of course, I shall go right away." He nodded her dismissal and she walked out of the study with the money in hand.  
  
Her thoughts went back to her mysterious father again. She knew the only way for her to ever find out anything about her past was to seek him out. And to do that she needed to convince Norrington that she needed to leave. But how would she do that? What would she say? Would he even let her leave? Shaking her head she tucked the money away in her purse then made her way to the smithy.  
  
AN: I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far. Your words are a great encouragement to me, thank you! I'm still trying to figure out this site, so far I think I have it down but I noticed that some of the formatting is a little messy, please be patient with me! Again, constructive criticism is always welcome. ~Anlei~ 


	3. Chapter Two

A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Two  
  
The streets of Port Royale were filled with every day merchants and traders, shop owners and beggars, as it was every morning. Annabelle walked swiftly through the crowded streets, her mind occupied with Norrington. Norrington was a very proper man, a person who lived very well in his status as a gentleman. That, of course, meant the mindset came along with it. He was not accustomed to allowing women to go gallivanting off without supervision. Even if he did allow her to leave he'd demand that someone go with her. That someone would not be him. Despite the apparent problems with his wife, he was still a family man. He often spent months on the sea away from them when his job demanded it. When he was home, he liked to stay there.  
  
She could try suggesting that she wished to spend some time visiting her cousin Frida in Spain. Although, Annabelle was sure that Norrington would arrange everything for her and even walk her to the port. He'd expect her to write to make sure she was doing well. He'd probably even want to contact Frida. Annabelle gave a most unladylike snort. She didn't want to risk having to actually stay with Frida. She could just imagine that one! While she had only lived with Frida while she was young she never really liked the woman. She'd go on for hours about how a young woman should act.  
  
Well, that's exactly how I want to spend my days, listening to that woman talk about the difference between beige and off white lace! She thought to herself. No, now wasn't the time to think about her cousin. It was unlikely she'd ever see the woman again, anyways.  
  
At least, she hoped not.  
  
Annabelle was so occupied with her private musings that she failed to notice the body in front of her...until she collided with it. She bounced backwards from the rather ragged man she ran into and fell on her rear end on the ground.  
  
"Are you alright, miss?" He held is hand out to her and helped her stand. "It would be better for you to look where you're walking, lass." He chastised gently.  
  
She had the good graces to blush while wiping the dirt from her gown. "My apologies, sir, I was merely..." She trailed of as she looked at him. He looked so familiar, like someone she knew from her past. But she couldn't place his face. He was an older man, much older than Norrington, dressed in sailor garb with tuffs of gray hair peeking out from under his cap. Yet he didn't appear to be a respectable man of society. With a small smile she ignored this thought.  
  
"Aye, there be no trouble, miss." He tipped his hat and walked away. She followed him with her eyes until he faded into the crowd.  
  
Who was he?  
  
It didn't matter now. He had already left. Turning, she continued on her way. A small sign hanging from a slightly tattered building caught her attention. Turner's Smithy. Grasping the handle she opened the door with a creak and walked inside. Almost instantly the temperature rose making the naturally warm weather of the Caribbean seem like a cool breeze. The smell of hot metal assaulted her senses and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Annabelle would have liked to run outside and dive into the ocean to escape such heat.  
  
She continued about the smithy looking for its owner. Bent over an anvil and working with a red hot piece of iron was a slender man, possibly in his late thirties. His shoulder length curly brown hair was tied back against the nape of his neck. He was quite handsome.  
  
"Excuse me, sir?" She called, having to raise her voice slightly. He paused and looked up, smiling cordially.  
  
"Good day to you miss." He called softly. She smiled in return.  
  
"I'm here on behalf of Commodore Norrington. I believe he has a sword order with a William Turner?"  
  
"Oh, yes of course. I am Will Turner. How is the commodore this morning? He is well I hope. He usually comes personally." He asked, removing himself from the stool he sat upon. He moved toward the back wall where the sword was waiting.  
  
"He's merely preoccupied with his duties, which is why I am here in his place." She replied, taking another look around room. She noticed the swords lining the back wall were indeed finely made. She found herself moving toward them. One in particular had caught her eye. It was a simple blade attached to a black and gold hilt, typical of its style. There was nothing particularly special about this blade above the others with it. Yet its simplicity stood out.  
  
Annabelle wanted to take the sword off the wall and test its feel in her hands. She caught herself as her hand reached for it. What would I do with a sword, even one as nice as this one? She thought sadly. It shouldn't have made her upset as much as it did. But she really wanted that sword.  
  
"I promise you, Annie, that when you're just a bit older you'll have one of your own." A voice rang in the back of her mind. A voice belonging to her mother.  
  
"My oldest son made that one. He modeled it after a blade belonging to a friend of mine." Startled and slightly embarrassed, Annabelle spun around quickly. His eyes were proudly on the back wall.  
  
"You're son is very talented, sir." She commented quietly.  
  
"He is. He enjoys making them. All of these you see here are ones he created." Annabelle turned around and looked again.  
  
"They're beautiful." Each blade glittered with the glare of the fire burning in the opposite side of the room.  
  
"I have the commodore's order for you, my lady." Annabelle nodded, finally prying her eyes away.  
  
"Thank you. Here is the payment." She replied as they exchanged the money for the sword. She tried not to fidget as he'd begun stared quite openly at her. There was a mixture of confusion and curiosity written on his face.  
  
It had been years since Will Turner had any run-ins with a pirate of any kind. Yet the girl before him reminded him so much of someone he once knew that it was startling. She had the same dark eyes, traces of the same smile, almost the same sun kissed skin but slightly darker. He could almost see the pirate in her face.  
  
"Have you been with the commodore for long?" He asked.  
  
"For a few years." She replied. When he noticed her discomfort he smiled and took a step back.  
  
"My apologies if I seem a bit forward, miss. You remind me of someone I once knew."  
  
Before she could ask anything, a tiny blur of a child burst through the doors and launched himself at the legs of a rather unbalanced Will.  
  
"Daddy!" cried a little boy, no more than four years at least.  
  
He'd nearly knocked Will off his feet but fortunately he caught himself before his body met the floor. Will bent down and swung the boy into his waiting arms. At that moment, a very pretty and very pregnant young woman walked in at a much more graceful pace. Forgetting Annabelle for the moment, Will took in the sight of his wife and smiled brilliantly. He kissed her temple sweetly before chastising her for putting her body through so much physical labor. She rolled her eyes, irritated.  
  
"Darling, I promise you that some fresh air will not hurt me. I have done this before you know." She smiled teasingly.  
  
"I know, my love, but it doesn't make me any less worried about you. The doctor says you should be mostly resting." She ignored him and turned her honey brown eyes to Annabelle standing forgotten in the background.  
  
Following her gaze Will turned to introduce them.  
  
"Forgive my oversight, this is my wife Elizabeth and my son Michael. And you are miss...?" Annabelle smiled shyly.  
  
"Annabelle, it is my pleasure to meet you," She gave a short bow before saying, "but I am afraid I must return. I thank you for the sword, I'm sure the commodore will be most pleased." They each said their farewells before parting.  
  
Annabelle released a sigh of relief to be outside of the smithy. She couldn't imagine spending all day inside that sweltering, dusty room, dealing with molten metal. She smiled thinking of how happy Will and Elizabeth seemed and couldn't help but feel pity Norrington and the relationship he had with his wife. He was a good man, one she didn't believe deserved half the stress he was put under. She only hoped for his sake that things would get better for them.  
  
She thought back to the man named William Turner as she walked back. She could see why Elizabeth had married him instead of the commodore. While it was not widely spoken, the story of the commodore's rejection from Elizabeth was no secret among the servants of his household. William was a handsome, soft spoken, and gentle man. His adoration for his wife could be seen every time he looked at her. In fact, it seemed that it would be hard for him to hide any of his thoughts from anyone. They way he looked at her earlier attested to that. He looked at her as if he recognized her.  
  
But how could he? Annabelle had never met William before. Moving onto other thoughts, Annabelle pushed Will Turner out of her mind. It never occurred to her that perhaps he saw a resemblance in her that she could not.  
  
AN: I've been spitting these chapters out pretty fast so I apologize if there are any careless errors here or there. I'll try to keep updating quickly and hopefully I'll get some more chapters within the next week! ~Anlei~ 


	4. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own anything POTC related (except for my character of course) but it would be nice to have my own Captain Jack Sparrow for entertainment!  
  
Captain of the Fluffies: Muahahaha! Now you have one. Just think of it as incentive to begin your own work, luvvie. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Three  
  
"Shut that door, you silly girl!" Clara cried as she quickly yanked Annabelle inside. About to question Clara for her strange behavior she heard the tell tale sounds of yet another fight between Mr. and Mrs. Norrington. "I won't be surprised if the neighbors hear them at this rate!" Clara hissed, looking out the windows for anyone who might be around.  
  
"Don't you mean all of Port Royale?" Annabelle sarcastically asked, placing the sword on a nearby table. She heard a crash from the upstairs bedroom and cringed. She hoped whatever was thrown did not clock Norrington on his head. "What are they fighting about now?"  
  
Clara stiffened a bit and cast her gaze on the young woman before her. She knew about every fight that occurred between the masters of the house but she was reluctant to give much detail about them. Especially now that Annabelle had returned. She set her lips in a thin line before saying, "Never mind that, young miss. We still have work to do around here. I'd recommend you being quick about that package then joining me in the laundry room." Clara scurried off in the direction of the laundry room shooing, the rest of the clientele with her.  
  
Suddenly, the study door burst open and out came an enraged Mrs. Norrington, barking at some poor soul to ready the carriage. She was to ride to her sister's house for a while. She noticed Annabelle standing sheepishly in the foyer and gave her a nasty look before disappearing behind her bedroom door.  
  
Annabelle knew it would be foolish to attempt asking for permission to leave now. He was in no mind for logical thinking. She turned to the sword lying on the table next to her. Maybe I can send this in by way of someone else...she thought. But she really didn't want to send someone else to deal with his temper, as tempting as it was.  
  
Reluctantly, she picked up the sword and walked up the stairs. Inside his study, Norrington's eyes were cast out the window. To anyone else, he seemed only lost in thought. But Annabelle knew him well enough to know the difference. Inside he was seething. His hands were clutched behind his back so tightly that his knuckles were white from the tension. His back was rigid and could rival the wall for straightness.  
  
Do I really want to give him a weapon right now? Annabelle wondered. The less reasonable parts of her brain were imaging what he would do to her if she unintentionally angered him further. She knew she was being silly but hesitating at his door seemed a better choice than actually going inside.  
  
Norrington's mind was a whirl of anger and confusion. He and his wife had never fought so horribly before. It was never so bad that she would leave. Beneath the fury he felt he deeply feared that she would leave him. He still loved her as he always had despite the seemingly hateful tone she would take with him when she was upset. He couldn't imagine a life without her. He longed for the happier days of his life when he'd retreat to her arms at night. She rarely smiled, rarely laughed, and it seemed that her scowl was permanently etched into her beautiful face.  
  
They were fighting about Annabelle again. She was convinced that he loved Annabelle more than his own two sons. He never understood how she could question such a thing. He adored both James II and Eric more than his own life! Though, deep in his heart he knew that he cared Annabelle like a daughter. It was only because of his wife and Annabelle's pirate lineage that kept him from formally introducing her as a family member.  
  
When he had first seen the tiny girl in the infirmary seven years ago he never saw her as the spawn of a pirate. She looked so frightened and so sad. Just the memory of the tears streaming down her darkened face tugged at his heart. He surprised even himself when he announced that he would take her home though he did not show it. What was it that affected him so?  
  
Perhaps his own tragic past convinced his heart to allow her in his home. He was very young when his parents had died. He was only ten, spending his summer in London with his grandparents as he did ever year. Yet that summer, when his parents returned to take him back home to Port Royale did his life change. Their vessel was attacked by pirates and sent in pieces to the bottom of the ocean. Even after so many years the memory of it was still painful. He remained in London under his grandparents care until he was old enough to come into his inheritance. When they died shortly after, he decided to join the royal navy then with the promise to rid the entire ocean of pirates.  
  
He worked hard to come into his position as commodore. He had the life he wanted. He was considered the best in the fleet. No one had been able to bring down as many pirates as he. And for the longest time ridding the seas of pirates was his only concern. Then he married Rebecca, his beautiful wife who bore him two perfect sons. Suddenly, spending all of his time on the ocean seemed like a chore if it meant that he was to be away for too long. Being a husband and father softened his heart. That and the infamous Jack Sparrow. Though the pirate was still the most irritating man Norrington ever had the displeasure of meeting, he found himself respecting the man (although he'd rather die that utter those words out loud) for his actions over two decades ago.  
  
Perhaps it was all these that had convinced him to take in thirteen year old Annabelle. He sighed deeply wondering was else it was that caused a rift between him and his wife. His treatment of Annabelle was only part of it. He only wished he could figure out the rest.  
  
"Sir?" A timid voice called from behind him. He was startled to realize that Annabelle was standing the doorway to his study. Just how long had he been standing there lost in thought? He noticed her hesitant face and the sword clutched in her small hands. Funny how strange a weapon looked in her hands.  
  
"You don't have to stand in the hall, Anna, you may enter." He said. No, he would not think about the stress his wife caused him while Annabelle was around. He did not wish to take his anger out on her. She slowly moved in, her eyes trained to the floor.  
  
"I have the sword you asked for." She handed the blade to him.  
  
He took the blade out of her hands. She stepped back as he pulled the sword from its sheath. He admired its fine craftsmanship for a moment before returning it. "Again Mr. Turner has outdone himself. James will be more than pleased with is gift." He remarked more to himself than to her. He walked to his desk to place the sword there. His son, who took after his father and joined the royal navy, would be celebrating his twenty fourth birthday in a few weeks. He intended to present the sword to him then as a birthday gift and as congratulations on becoming a captain.  
  
"Thank you, my dear. You may return to your duties." He said, noticing that she began toy with the apron around her waist. She obviously wanted to speak with him about something but seemed unable to form the words. "Annabelle?" He called.  
  
"Sir...there is something I would like to speak to you on." She replied nervously. It seemed that whatever she was thinking weighed heavily on her mind and he knew now was not the time for an important discussion. Again, his mind wandered back to the fight with his wife and he messaged the bridge of his nose. Why couldn't he push those thoughts out of his head for once? He needed to focus on his work.  
  
"Very well, we'll speak after dinner. Come here when you have finished today's tasks." Annabelle nodded, bowed, and then disappeared out into the hall.  
  
Annabelle made her way to the laundry room to join the rest of the maids in washing and folding, trying not to worry about her talk with Norrington that evening. She was worried more than she wanted to admit. Clara met her at the door, ushering her inside.  
  
"Well I don't see any outward signs of damage. You're quite the lucky one!" Annabelle gave a short laugh while taking a basket of clothes to wash.  
  
"If I had to give that sword to Mrs. Norrington I wouldn't have been so lucky."  
  
"Hold your tongue, child." Annabelle smiled knowing that secretly Clara agreed with her but wouldn't speak so candidly of her mistress in the presence of others. "It's because Master Norrington wouldn't want to hurt you if he didn't have to that you shed no tears now."  
  
"I don't understand why he would show such favor to me. I am a servant just like the others."  
  
Clara rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid, child."  
  
Annabelle shook her head. "He brought me here to be a maid, Miss Clara, not a daughter."  
  
"Well, knowing your heritage, he couldn't call you his child and still maintain his place in society."  
  
Everything halted for Annabelle at that moment. She ceased washing and turned to look at Clara. "What do you know of my heritage?" She asked slowly.  
  
Clara stopped working. Annabelle was staring intently at the older woman. She realized that she had spoken too much. Norrington had made it clear that if Annabelle did not remember her pirate heritage that there was no reason to remind her of it. She agreed even though she felt it was wrong to hide it from Annabelle.  
  
"Finish your work." She said curtly, going back to her own washing. But Annabelle would not listen.  
  
"Clara!" She ignored Annabelle and scrubbed with fervor. Annabelle stood up and pulled the older woman into a side room.  
  
"Please, you have to tell me what you know." Annabelle begged, looking straight into Clara's eyes. Clara looked away.  
  
"Don't be silly child, now is not the time for-!" Clara began trying to walk back into the room but Annabelle grabbed the other woman's arms.  
  
"Please, Clara! I have to know. I've been living in the dark for so many years, please tell me!" Clara sighed in frustration. "Please..." She pried Annabelle's hands from her arms then closed the door, making sure none of the other workers heard anything not meant for their ears.  
  
"Tell me, child. What do you remember of the day Norrington brought you to this house?" Clara asked lowering her voice.  
  
Annabelle thought back. "I remember...I only remember waking up in a hospital bed. They said I had a concussion."  
  
"Yes, you did. And a serious one at that, my dear. What else? Do you remember how you came to that hospital?" Clara pressed, trying to see just how much Annabelle knew about her past.  
  
"Only what Mr. Norrington told me. He said that I was aboard a ship that was destroyed. A sailor found me and carried me over to their ship and brought me here. He never told me anything else. Not even the name of the ship I was on." Annabelle replied. Why was Clara so hesitant? What could be so bad that she couldn't tell Annabelle?  
  
"It's just as well. I was never told the ship's name, child. But it was no merchant vessel they found you upon. But a pirate ship."  
  
A pirate ship?  
  
Visions of a battle passed before her eyes. Sailors against pirates in the dead of the night and cannons tearing through the air...But that was all.  
  
Why was I there?  
  
"Why was I on a pirate ship, Clara?" Annabelle asked cautiously.  
  
"Dear girl, do use your head. You were on that ship because you are the child of pirates! Oh dear, I've said too much. You had best forget what I told you, Miss. You're the employee of a commodore, a commodore of the royal navy no less! Not a pirate!" Having said enough Clara turned and left a stunned Annabelle standing alone in the room.  
  
There was no forgetting what she had learned. "It can't be...I'm a...pirate?"  
  
AN: Hehe, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! ^_^ 


	5. Chapter Four

AN: Here you go, my latest chapter! Sorry, that it wasn't as quick as my first few but things are going to be a little bit slower from now on because in two days I head back to college life, which means classes! *gaaah* Anyways I hope you enjoy and thank you to all the reviewers! I can't tell you how much it means to me that you guys enjoy my story so much! ~Anlei~  
  
A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Four  
  
For the rest of the day Annabelle could barely focus on her chores. Her mind tried over and over again to wrap itself around this new revelation. She was a pirate. Maybe not formally, she had never plundered anything and as for sword play that was another story in itself. She wouldn't know what to do with a sword no matter how much she liked them.  
  
Despite all of this she as a pirate by blood. That meant her mother was a pirate. Her father probably was too. She just wished she could remember. It seemed to raise more questions, questions she had never considered before. What as the name of the ship? Why did Norrington keep this from her? What does he know?  
  
Now more than ever she wanted to find her father. She had too.  
  
Was he even alive?  
  
Annabelle had never considered it before. She may be driving herself crazy over someone she would never know. Maybe the reason it had always been just her and her mother resulted from an early death of her father.  
  
Or maybe the reason she didn't know him was because he didn't want to know her. Maybe her mother had tried to spare her the grief of knowing that she had a father who regretted her existence.  
  
No, no...none of these can be true. She refused to believe it.  
  
It didn't matter, her mind was made up. She had to find him, even if he wanted nothing to do with her, only he would be able to provide her with answers. This was her heritage. She felt lost without knowing who she was or where she came from. She felt like she only existed, floating through life not knowing who it was that looked back at her from the mirror.  
  
When she returned to the laundry room she and Clara remained silent. The other maids paid little attention to them gossiping away as they normally did. That was fine for Annabelle. At that moment she had no need to speak to any of them.  
  
Afterwards, when it was nearly lunch time they stopped to eat quickly before going back to work. When Annabelle began to return with the others Clara stopped her.  
  
"Go, you need sometime to yourself. We can handle the rest. Just be home before dinner." Annabelle was thankful. She had to get out of the house and spend those few hours alone. It began to feel...small.  
  
Heading out the back door Annabelle made her way to the shore. Whenever she felt overwhelmed she would sit on the sand and listen to the waves crashing against the shore and it calmed her. It reminded her of those precious moments between her and her mother so long ago. They would lay in the sunlight after swimming, content to just be. She missed being able to run out into the ocean and dive in every morning. Annabelle's new life simply did not allow her the time or luxury to go swimming anymore. She was required to be at the house for most of the time. She had free time once dinner was over and the dishes were clean. But there was no time for swimming after dusk.  
  
She went to the same place every time. It was a small, secluded end of the beach near the house. Very few people went there and she was able to strip down to nothing but her petticoat without worry. There was the occasion sailor or two but no one to disturb her.  
  
Once she arrived the first thing she did was remove her shoes and stockings so she could feel the sand between her aching toes. It was warm and soothing underneath her tired feet. She stood for a moment, simply enjoying the sand before moving further down the beach. Making sure no one was around she stripped off her dress and bonnet, carefully placing them on the sand. Taking the pin out of her hair she let the braid fall down her back before her nimble fingers gracefully unwound it. Dark waves fell about her shoulders and back and she took this moment to truly let her body relax. Feeling the wind through her hair and inhaling the salt water she truly felt at home.  
  
Then she carefully waded into the water. The waves were rougher than normal, nearly knocking her backwards but she pressed on until she was waist deep. She sank into the water then began swimming out into the blue green waters. She considered herself an excellent swimmer, even though lack of practice left her body in less than great condition for it. Her muscles burned with the familiar feeling of pushing herself against the current. She swam far out into the waters, arms and legs alternating with each rhythmic stroke. With each breath she took she pushed her body.  
  
Almost instantly she felt better. There were no hidden memories to think about, no pirates, no fathers, nothing but her and the sea. Her mind recalled the look of her mother's toned limbs moving in and out of the ocean and the way the sun darkened her skin to a deep golden brown. She hoped the sun would do the same to her. At that moment she wanted very much to feel as if she were but a drop of water in the sea, a part of it.  
  
Swimming farther and farther out to sea, she strove for the horizon and the sun that leisurely descended above her. Filling her lungs with air she dove underneath a wave. All sounds dissipated from around her and all that was left was the serenity of the calming blue. Her lungs began to burn for air and she pushed her body heavenward, breaking the surface.  
  
Her heart pounded in her ears from all the exertion. Tilting backward she floated on the surface that gently rocked her seemingly weightless body. The heat of the sun brought a smile to her face.  
  
She continued on until she felt up to swimming again. She swam until her arms and legs were so sore that she thought she'd have to crawl home. As the hours pass by the sun sank lower in the sky and she found herself exhausted on the hot sand. Regardless of her wishes her body began to sleep...  
  
"Mama?"  
  
"Hmm..."  
  
"Are you awake, mama?"  
  
Dark brown eyes opened to greet a similar yet smaller pair. The corners of those eyes crinkled in a languid smile.  
  
"What's in your head, child?"  
  
The child looked down at her tiny brown hands suddenly feeling silly. The woman sat up and brought the child into her comforting embrace.  
  
"Come now, why that long face?"  
  
The child leaned into her mothers arms.  
  
"Why don't you ever talk about him, mama?"  
  
The woman stiffened, trying not to let the child see her discomfort.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Daddy."  
  
The reply was so simple yet weighing so heavily upon the woman.  
  
"Not much to say, love." She wanted the child to be happy with that answer but she knew it wouldn't work. She didn't want to think about him anymore.  
  
But the child remained silent even though she wanted to ask more. The woman looked into the child's face and she could see the sadness. She released a heavy sigh.  
  
"Take a look at there, child," the woman began stretching her finger towards the vast ocean, "and tell me what you see."  
  
The child turned her small eyes to watch the horizon.  
  
"It's the sea, mama." She replied, clearly puzzled.  
  
"Aye, child, that it is. And it stretches out farther than you can imagine. Do you remember what we did on your birthday?" She asked turning to the child.  
  
The child's face lit up with untold glee. She nodded vigorously.  
  
"You took me to see all the boats! And the nice man with the funny hat let me on one! He said he was the captain and that was his boat."  
  
The woman smiled and hugged the child closer.  
  
"Yes. Well, your father is a captain of his own ship too." The woman's eyes suddenly turned wistful as she gazed towards the horizon.  
  
The child's eyes lit up.  
  
"Really?? Was it a big one?"  
  
The woman laughed. "Yes, it was. He's probably out there right now." She spoke more so to herself than her daughter.  
  
They both fell into silence and watched the waves crash and recede.  
  
"I'm going to have my own ship one day too, Annie. I'll take you everywhere you want to go." She whispered, holding the child close.  
  
"Can we go to daddy?" The child asked equally as quiet.  
  
The question was never answered.  
  
"Miss.miss?"  
  
Annabelle awoke to someone shaking her shoulders in a less than gentle fashion. She frowned, opening her blurry eyes and seeing two faces peering down at her. She rose up on her elbows and eyed the two men curiously. She recognized William Turner along side a sailor she'd seen earlier on a fishing boat.  
  
"Are you alright, Miss Annabelle?" Turner asked.  
  
"How long have I been asleep?" She asked, noticing that the sun was considerably lower in the sky then when she last saw it.  
  
"Asleep? We thought the waves had tossed you a bit when we found you here, miss. The current's rough today. What were you doing sleeping on the beach here in naught but your undergarments?" The unnamed sailor asked, certainly unaccustomed to seeing young women lying around in the sand.  
  
Annabelle frowned, half tempted to ask him what business it was of his but then she remembered her place. "I went for a swim."  
  
The sailor looked surprised at her. "This is no place for a lady to go swimming alone." Annabelle resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was in no mood to be reprimanded by some sailor she'd never met.  
  
"Are you sure you're alright, miss?" The soft voice of William Turner asked. She gave him a slight smile and nodded.  
  
"I merely fell asleep and if you two wouldn't mind, I must return home. I'm late enough as it is." She replied getting to her feet. She Picked up her belongings and began moving away from the shore. Her face and skin felt hot from lying in the sun too long and she noticed that she had gotten considerably darker. She ran her fingers through her tangled, wavy hair, trying to tame it and shake the sand out of it at the same time.  
  
"Miss Annabelle, if you would be so kind to wait for me. I'd like to walk you home." Annabelle wanted to say that she wasn't far and didn't need supervision but she decided against it. It was a nice enough request and he was a kind man. Looking down at herself she realized how it must look to people passing by and decided to get dressed. She wasn't a whore and didn't want to appear as one. Shaking the rest of the sand off her petticoat she slipped her dress over her head then put her shoes and stockings on. She held the bonnet and hair clips in her hand as Will made his way over to her. He had stopped for a moment to talk to the sailor before joining her.  
  
"Shall we go?" He asked, offering her his arm. She nodded and looped her arm through his. They began walking for the Norrington Household.  
  
"How did you happen upon me, Mr. Turner?" Annabelle asked, giving him a quick look.  
  
"I sometimes take walks through this area when I need to think. The young sailor was a friend of mine and I saw him crouching over you." He replied, taking notice of her again. The resemblance was just uncanny.  
  
"I apologize for this. It was careless of me." She replied, feeling uncomfortable. She noticed the way he looked at her and felt tempted to yank her arm out of his and run the rest of the way. But she remained calm. She hated being stared at.  
  
"It's no trouble."  
  
Will noticed the girl's discomfort and struggled with something to make her feel at ease.  
  
"Is this something you do often?" He asked. She gave him a puzzled look.  
  
"Sleep half dressed in the sand?" She asked, quirking a grin.  
  
He returned the smile, "I mean swimming here, along this shore."  
  
"Not very often, anymore. I do when I have the time. And I'm afraid lack of it has made me terribly out of shape." She grinned sheepishly, now noticing the stiffness creeping into her limbs. She knew she was going to hurt later for her exertion.  
  
"You're family must have been sailors then."  
  
Annabelle nearly stopped dead. But she quickly realized he was merely guessing. The children who spent time at sea were taught to swim more so than those who spent most of their time on land.  
  
She gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, something like that." She replied dismissively, giving a weak smile. "My mother taught me to swim when we lived in Spain. It's a natural as walking to me."  
  
"You're mother, is she also a maid of Norrinton?" He asked in the pretense of appearing casual.  
  
"No...I was told that she died when I was younger, before I came to live with Norrington."  
  
Will suddenly felt silly for asking. "My apologies, miss." He replied softly.  
  
She gave him another smile, pulling her arm out of his. "There's no need. I don't remember much of her. I thank you for walking me home."  
  
He smiled and she turned to make her way through the back entrance to avoid being seen. Will gave a sigh. A question had been on his mind ever since she mentioned her mother. He knew he was being presumptuous but he felt compelled to ask.  
  
"If you don't mind me asking...what was her name?" He questioned.  
  
Annabelle turned to look at him. She thought the question was odd but saw no real reason for not answering.  
  
"Her name was Anamaria."  
  
Will gave himself credit for not outwardly showing his complete and utter shock at her words. He schooled his face with a smile and gave her a bow. "Good day to you, Miss Annabelle." He spoke and quickly walked away.  
  
AN: Reviews are ALWAYS welcome! ^_~ 


	6. Chapter Five

Dutch Boy: You are crazy but I love you anyway!  
  
AN: Just to let you guys now, there are a few minor changes in chapter 4 that I made because I realized a few things that I had left out.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Elizabeth Turner stood on the balcony to her bedroom looking out into the fading lights of Port Royale. She held one hand over her swollen belly, still marveling at the feeling of movement beneath her fingers even after two pregnancies. She smiled to herself, enjoying the warm breeze. She stood dressed in her robe and nightgown with her hair hanging free from its usual style and took in beauty of the night before her. Drawing her arms around her shoulders she turned to her husband who sat hunched over his knees in an arm chair deep in thought.  
  
"Will?" She called, wanting him to join her. He didn't move. In fact he had barely spoken during dinner, a time when he usually took time to relax and enjoy his family. He had stared into his plate and barely touched the food on it. He allowed her to go upstairs while he sent the children to bed. When he joined her in their room he promptly sat in the chair and hadn't moved since. It worried her.  
  
"Will?" She called again. Again, he failed to move even the slightest muscle in acknowledgement.  
  
Her frown deepened and she moved to stand in front of him. One hand went to her aching back while the other rest on his shoulder. He jumped, startled and turned his widened eyes to her.  
  
"Will, what on earth is the matter with you tonight? I've never seen you in this state since Billy first started working with you in the smithy and had that accident with a blade." He looked up to see the concern etched into her face and immediately felt guilty for making her worry, especially in her state. He stood up and took her into his arms.  
  
"I don't mean to make you worry." He said while placing a gentle kiss on her temple. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
"What plagues you so, my love?" Elizabeth sighed, her body relaxing as he gently messaged her lower back.  
  
"I had a run in with the young maid who came by the smithy earlier this morning." He replied, linking his hands behind her back.  
  
"You fancy her do you?" Elizabeth teased, leaning up to kiss him.  
  
"One woman is quite enough." He teased in return, earning a mock glare from his sleepy wife.  
  
With a long sigh the warm smile melted from his face.  
  
"There is something about her that has caught my interest." He confessed quietly.  
  
Elizabeth gave him a quizzical look. He kissed her forehead and pulled her closer. "And this has made you so distant tonight?" She asked.  
  
"It's just that she reminds me so much of..." he paused in the middle of sentence, shaking his head, "but it would make no sense if what I'm thinking is true."  
  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, tired and in no mood for guessing at his thoughts. "William, darling, what is it?"  
  
"This girl, Annabelle, looks to be a female version of Jack."  
  
"What?" Elizabeth hardly believed what he said. She'd seen the young woman and if she was at any way related to Jack Sparrow she showed little of it character wise. Though, similarities in appearance were something she never thought of until now.  
  
"She's slightly darker than he was but she has the same shaped eyes, very dark, seemingly innocent eyes, and her features are gentle, like his...but that's not what bothers me." He continued.  
  
"How can you say that she is related to Jack Sparrow simply by looking at her? She could be related to anyone in Port Royale." Elizabeth reasoned.  
  
"She told me her mother's name was Anamaria." He replied. Elizabeth straightened and looked him in the eye.  
  
"You mean, the Jamaican woman from Tortuga I met on the Interceptor? That Anamaria?" Elizabeth asked, almost unable to believe what she had heard.  
  
"I cannot think of anyone else. Yet, she said that she and her mother came from Spain and that she died years ago. That couldn't be true..." Again, his mind wandered to his earlier conversation with Annabelle.  
  
"It's been many years since we've had contact with Jack Sparrow, let alone the Black Pearl, we would hardly know what could have happened in that time. Even if she is Anamaria's daughter, do you really think Jack Sparrow had anything to do with it? They hardly seemed on friendly terms, Will." Elizabeth argued.  
  
"It hardly makes sense to my own mind either, Elizabeth. Yet, so much can change in over two decades. And you know how Jack was with women, particularly when having downed too much rum." Will replied looking down at his wife's face.  
  
"Jack Sparrow with a daughter...it hardly seems possible." She muttered.  
  
"But certainly probable." He returned. There were few women who were not "acquainted" with the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow in the Caribbean.  
  
They both stood in silence for a moment, thinking about this new turn of events. Could this young woman really be his child? And if so, why was she not with Jack?  
  
"She could very well be his child."  
  
"Do you believe that he would abandon her? You said that she and Anamaria spent time in Spain." Elizabeth asked.  
  
"Even if Jack is the most confusing person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting he is loyal despite how he appears. If he knows about her I'm sure he would have at least some contact with her." Will replied.  
  
"This is silly, William! He may not even be her father. We can't say for sure that he is." She said as released her husband to sit in the chair he previously occupied.  
  
"I understand that and I would dismiss this notion if it weren't for the memory of Jack's previous visit here." Will strode to the doorway of the balcony and clasped his hands behind his back.  
  
Elizabeth gave a disgruntled noise before saying, "He's just asking for the noose the way he tempts fate to come speak with you, Will."  
  
A weak smile graced her husband's lips as he remembered the last time he saw Jack. "I hope I never have to find out just how that man manages to slip past the marines unnoticed every time." But the smile quickly died remembering that particular visit.  
  
"If you could have seen him Elizabeth you would not recognize the pirate from our adventures. The spark had gone from his eyes. He wouldn't speak to me on it, in fact he pretended as if nothing bothered him. He seemed so horribly sad."  
  
Elizabeth yawned despite herself. She was interested more so than she wanted to admit yet the weight of a child strained her body and she found it hard to keep awake. She wanted nothing more than to curl up with her husband and sleep. "Captain Jack Sparrow has many secrets, my love. He's not one to openly display them." She murmured.  
  
Will turned to see his wife admiring her beauty through the soft glow of the candles lit about their room. He loved her more than anything and cherished her and their children as any father would. He couldn't understand leaving any of them for longer than he had too. He was content to be a blacksmith and be home every evening for dinner and the warm embrace of his wife. Sure, he was vastly different from Jack Sparrow but the idea that this pirate would allow his daughter to become a maid, to Norrington no less, seemed ludicrous.  
  
He knew Jack, no matter what anyone had said. He was no coward though he'd never given though to how Jack would react to a child. He half expected a child of Jack's child to be a smaller clone of himself. That thought brought a slight smile to his face. Maybe he was wrong and it was a mere coincidence.  
  
Will resolved put this thought away. He and his wife both needed sleep, especially her. Walking over he crouched in front of her and touched her face. "We'll talk no more of this tonight. Let us go to bed." Elizabeth nodded and accepted his hand to stand up.  
  
As they both slid under the cover, Will wrapped his arms around Elizabeth and watched her fall into slumber. He closed his yes and fell into an uneasy sleep.  
  
In another part of Port Royale, Annabelle washed dishes with the other maids in the kitchen, wishing she could go and bathe the salt and sand from her skin. It made her petticoat stiff and itchy which was horribly uncomfortable underneath her dress. Clara said nothing to her when she came back. She simply directed her to the kitchen and continued about her work. Annabelle could easily see the nervous regret etched across the older woman's slim face. She watched Clara wring her hands as she worked, something she never did.  
  
Annabelle wanted to assure her that she wouldn't speak of what she'd heard to any of the Norringtons but it would only serve to make things worse. Clara was in no mood for her. She didn't blame the woman. It was a rarity that any pirates, by blood or by choice, were allowed to walk the streets of Port Royale unchecked. If anyone found out Annabelle could find herself in real danger.  
  
That thought had never really occurred to her before. And it made her slightly afraid. Over all she did enjoy living in the Norrington household. It may not have been preferable but there was so much a woman could do in this society to live comfortably and respectably.  
  
What would she do if she left this house? Where would she go? How could she even begin to look for her father when she had nothing to go by? It seemed pointless to even consider. Yet here she was ready to throw her life away as she knew it for a pirate. She knew what kind of men pirates made and she hardly saw any of them being the respectable father types. They pillaged and plundered, that's what it meant to be a pirate...right?  
  
At least that's what she's always known since being in Norrington's house. The rest of the port seemed to agree with this notion. Who was she to contradict it?  
  
Taking the stack of dishes she'd just cleaned she began carrying them to the cupboard. Her mind was whirl, trying to piece together all of the memories that assaulted her brain. But nothing seemed to make sense. How does one simply loose years of their life? The doctors had told Norrington that she may or may not receive all of her memories and that only time would tell. It seemed far too long a time to remember. She wondered if there were things she would never recover.  
  
Annabelle wanted most of all to remember her mother. After all, she had very little time with her but what she remembered touched her heart deeply. She adored the memories of her mother. It was those that made her feel calm when she felt that she was going out of control. Yet at the same time it made her despairingly gloomy. She'd lost this woman. And to make it worse she could not remember how. It was as if one day she was there then the next gone and all too soon Annabelle had to learn to cope with it alone.  
  
Somehow the thoughts of her mother being a pirate didn't surprise Annabelle. It almost seemed...fitting. Here was a woman who dressed and acted like a man in a society where women like that were scorned. It would make sense that she would find solace among people who acted the same. She was sometimes crude and she usually enjoyed a good drink after dinner. She'd had a child out of wedlock. She carried a pistol with her at all times and as far as she could remember her mother never once wore a dress. The thought of that seemed rather comical. Her mother carried herself with pride and Annabelle felt that a dress would curtail that image.  
  
Annabelle allowed herself to smile. By far her most favorite memories were her earliest. In Frida's nice but modest house she and her mother had shared a room and a bed. She'd awake to the smell of salt sea water that seemed to cling to her mother's skin. Perhaps that is why it felt so comforting to be close to the waters. It reminded her of her mother.  
  
Sometimes, she fell asleep to the sound of her mother's voice, promising her the world and everything in it. She could hardly understand what her mother had meant all those years ago but the thought was strangely comforting. She'd run her long, calloused fingers through Annabelle's dark hair to lull the child to sleep. It took her a while to learn to sleep without it. When she first came to the house it felt too large and alien. Her own room as bigger than the room she shared and the bed was far too soft. Most of all, she lost the warmth of her mother, a feeling that made her secure. Now she slept fine but she still missed the familiarity.  
  
It seemed that her mind simply shut its doors when she tried to look forward. Knowing that she was found on a pirate ship made no difference. She couldn't remember anything from it.  
  
Logically, she knew she must have traveled by ship to get to Port Royale. She didn't simply appear there. But she had always thought it was a merchant vessel of some sort. The word pirate never even entered her mind.  
  
For the first time since she thought of finding her father, she considered dropping the idea entirely. Annabelle felt completely unsure of her own courage to leave everything she's come to know behind. What if she couldn't come back? What if looking for her father meant abandoning security? Annabelle clutched the edges of the counter and leaned hard onto it. Soon she would have to go to Norrington and ask to leave. She had no idea what she would say. It seemed almost pointless to try but she had to! She suddenly felt terribly worried.  
  
Norrington could very well look at her and think she was throwing everything he'd given to her back into her face. Was it worth it?  
  
"Miss?" Annabelle started at the sound of someone's voice. She noticed now that the kitchen had emptied itself. Clara stood in the doorway watching her closely. Annabelle tried to form a weak smile but found that she couldn't.  
  
"Am I finished here, Clara?" Annabelle asked tiredly, suddenly feeling very strained. Clara nodded, looking as if she wanted to say more but she remained silent.  
  
Without thinking about what she was doing, Annabelle strode over to Clara and threw her arms around the woman. She felt her arms slowly wrap around the younger girl.  
  
"Anna?" She asked gently, confused.  
  
"Thank you, Clara. Thank you for everything you've done for me." Annabelle whispered, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes. She pulled away and gave Clara a watery smile. Clara looked troubled and confused.  
  
Without saying another word Annabelle made her way to Norrington's study. She wasn't at all prepared but it was time to do as she must. She just hoped that she wouldn't have to say goodbye to all of these people for good.  
  
In some deep, dark part of her mind, she secretly hoped that she wouldn't have to say goodbye at all. And at the same time, she knew she would.  
  
AN: There you have it, sorry for the bit of delay. Classes, hw, ick! I'll try to get the next chapter out soon! ~Anlei~ 


	7. Chapter Six

A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Annabelle hesitated at the door to Norrington's study. Her hands idly clutched her apron, twisting the fabric. She could see the pale lamplight peeking out from the bottom of the door indicating that he was in there waiting for her as he promised. Not that she doubted his appearance but rather she hoped not to face him.  
  
This is stupid! You're never going to get anywhere if you don't go inside! She berated herself internally. Taking a deep breath she knocked on his door.  
  
"You may enter." His bored voice called from inside. Clutching the door knob she slowly stepped inside. He was seated in his favorite chair watching the flames dance in the fireplace. She stood in the middle of the room until he motioned for her to join him.  
  
Sitting the chair she curiously turned to look at him. His mind was hardly on her presence. She wondered if he even remembered her sitting next to him. It did give her time to collect herself.  
  
"Do you remember when you first came to my home, Anna?" He asked, suddenly interrupting her thoughts. His voice had lost all manner of authority and it stunned her a bit. He rarely let is guard down anymore and the fact that he had done so for her meant something.  
  
"I remember." She replied.  
  
He rested his elbows on either side of the chair and continued to watch the fire. "You were only thirteen then and I dare say quite afraid of me." His voice fell as he spoke.  
  
"I wasn't afraid of you, sir." Annabelle replied warily. Norrington was in a strange mood and it was worrying her. She quickly scanned the room for signs of alcohol but there were none. He was not a man who drank often. The only time he did was during social gatherings and even so it was very little.  
  
He gave a short smile before loosing himself in thought again. "Even so, I doubt you were very fond of me."  
  
"I was afraid but not of you. You've been nothing but kind to me sir, and you have my thanks for giving me such care. Especially when you did not have to." Annabelle replied.  
  
He momentarily glanced at her then returned his gaze to the fire, saying nothing. She began to feel something in the pit of her stomach. It was nervousness settling in and making itself comfortable. She didn't like the way he was acting in the slightest.  
  
"Would you say that you are happy living in my home, Annabelle?" He asked, interrupting her thoughts. Happy? Of course she was happy. She had a home, she had food, good food, clean clothes, and a soft bed to sleep in a night. And she was paid to keep house for the Norringtons. There were many in Port Royale who desired such a job and wouldn't have the luck of getting one.  
  
"Of course I am sir. Is there something I have done to cause you doubts?" She asked tentatively.  
  
"No, my dear, you have done nothing. In fact sometimes I would think there is no other place you would rather be." He replied, standing up and moving toward the window. His eyes fixed themselves upon the moon and his hands clasped behind his back.  
  
"One would find it hard in my status to find a better place to live than this, sir." She replied cautiously.  
  
"Yet is there no other place you'd wish to be? No other life you would rather have?" He continued on as if he didn't hear her. The knot in Annabelle's stomach got tighter. She began to wonder if her reasons for speaking with him were no as secret as she thought.  
  
"I can hardly think of another life that I would want to have. What other options is there, sir?" She asked, twisting fully in her chair to face him. He continued to stare out the window.  
  
"Simple, dear child. You could have been married by now perhaps, even a mother. Or you could be among the many women who choose to sell themselves rather than live a respectable existence. You may not even be in Port Royale. Perhaps you would be somewhere else with your family had you not be so tragically orphaned." He said each word so nonchalantly, as if it made no consequence what he was saying. His voice was unnaturally cold and took a freezing stab to her heart with every letter.  
  
Her heart began to pound in her chest and she began to realize that he was leading precisely in the direction she feared, her parentage. She wondered just what exactly he would do if he realized that she knew of her pirate lineage. Even worse, if he knew that her memories were returning to her.  
  
"There are many lives that someone would wish to have but that does not change reality. I am like anyone else who has been orphaned and I do wish that I could be with my mother but thinking that way will only sadden me. I am happy where I am, that I do not have to degrade myself for the others and their money. I do mean these things I say." Her voice was earnest in the attempt to convince him of her sincerity.  
  
He turned to look at her fully and his features seemed to melt into an expression of fatherly concern. "I know, you have never given me reason to distrust you."  
  
Annabelle felt the knots in her stomach slowly unravel themselves. But she was not totally at ease. He had reasons for all these questions but what?  
  
"I do believe that you are happy here and I would hope that could be attributed to my efforts to make you so. However, I understand that such is not enough, is it?" He asked, watching her face. He could almost see the point where her heart clutched in her chest.  
  
He knew.  
  
At least, that is how it seemed to Annabelle. He had to know otherwise these questions would not be asked. Perhaps he didn't know the entire truth but he knew enough to make those slowly unwinding knots tighten themselves again.  
  
Swallowing hard she began to fist her fingers in her apron. "I do not wish for you to think me ungrateful, sir. I truly am grateful to be here." Her voice lowered to a whisper.  
  
"Somehow, I do not believe you requested to speak with me on your happiness in my home this evening." He replied in a somewhat teasing manner.  
  
"No, I did not." Annabelle found it harder and harder to make the words she wanted to say.  
  
With a long sigh he replaced himself in the chair across from her. "Then you may tell me what it is you wished to say." He bade her to speak.  
  
Annabelle didn't understand why this had to be so hard. He'd never truly given her reason to be afraid to speak to him if she needed too. Taking a deep breath she began.  
  
"As I have said, I am ever grateful for the kindness you have given me. And I would not turn on this for any reason other than absolute need. But for seven years I've lived under your roof feeling like half a person. I have no connection to my past, only a few memories scattered about in my mind. I've tried to live this way and I've managed to do so for a long time but I cannot continue this way." Annabelle eye's bore deep into Norrington's and she prayed that he would understand what she tried to explain.  
  
"I came to you tonight to ask for your permission to leave and be released of your service so that I may find those answers to my heritage." Having spoken what she needed to say Annabelle felt the weight lift off her shoulders for the moment.  
  
For a few moments Norrington said nothing and looking very much the man his age. Rarely anyone could tell that he was in his early fifties because his features remained young despite his age. Yet, Annabelle noticed that the dim firelight seemed to amplify the deep creases in his skin.  
  
"Should I choose to grant you this, where would you go? Do you even know where to begin looking? You cannot simply go in search of something, unsupervised no less, that you have no idea about? What exactly do you intend to do?" He asked.  
  
Annabelle wished she knew how to answer. But she didn't. In fact, she hadn't put much thought into anything besides finding her father. She cursed herself for being so ill prepared. Her cheeks flushed sheepishly but she did not turn away. It was no the time to appear childish.  
  
"I do not have much to go by but there a few places I could visit." She replied, trying desperately to not appear as if she hadn't planned anything.  
  
"You would have me send you off, alone, to where?" He asked. She could hear the patience in his voice growing thin.  
  
She opened her mouth to answer but found that she had nothing to reply.  
  
"You do not know, do you?" Annabelle remained silent. This was rapidly going a way she had not foreseen. She watched him stare at her, cold, unrelenting, hiding the true concern he felt.  
  
"I may not have all the answers but I must go! I'll accomplish nothing by just sitting here, please!" She was begging him now, seeing no other option.  
  
Norrington leaned forward on his knees and looked sympathetically at her. "My dear girl just what do you hope to accomplish? It has been years since you arrived in Port Royale, and even longer since you were in Spain. You have little of your memories left and no one to claim you. It is highly unsafe for women to travel alone, especially to certain parts of the Caribbean and I can only imagine some of the other parts of the world you'd have to look! You have no idea what you want to look for. I'm afraid this idea unsafe and quite frankly I see no need for it."  
  
Annabelle wanted to argue with him but what could she say? He was right that the idea was clearly dangerous and she had no way of protecting herself. Never the less his answer stung. Finding her past and her father meant so much to her and he seemed to take no notice of it. She felt hot tears stinging the back of her eyes and threatening to spill. Taking a deep breath she broke away from his gaze and fisted her hands. She heard him lean forward in the chair and felt him grasp her smaller hands with his larger ones.  
  
She tried hard not to cry.  
  
"I understand you, Anna." He began, hoping the use of the nickname would soothe her but he knew it wouldn't. "But you ask for something that simply cannot be done. I know it must be hard for you to never know here you have come from but perhaps its best you put those thoughts away and lived you new life as best you can." He released her hand and stood up, moving toward the dying candles. He began lighting others to keep the room from falling into darkness.  
  
Annabelle swallowed her sob and forced herself to calm down as much as she could. She stood shakily with her head bowed. She didn't want him to see just how deeply she was hurting. "I understand, sir." She replied. "If I may I'd like to return to my room." She asked, forcing herself to look at him.  
  
He turned and nodded to her, wanting to say more but feeling that anything would upset the girl far more than he would have liked. He felt a stab in his chest watching her shoulders shake but forced himself not to think of it. She bowed politely and began moving towards the door. Just as she was about to step into the hall he stopped her.  
  
"Annabelle?" She turned and looked toward him, blinking heavily.  
  
"I've said this only because I care for you and I would not want to see you hurt. It's best you forget about it." Even he inwardly cringed at his words but outside he remained as solid as stone. He watched her close her eyes and nod in understanding. She gave him a watery smile which only served to make him feel worse before stepping out the door and vanishing toward her room.  
  
Instantly after, Norrington felt like a fool. He hadn't said anything but he knew more about Annabell's past then he lead on. He had kept his knowledge hidden from her not because he was a cruel man, but simply because he did not wish harm to come to her. If she knew she was a pirate she would go looking for pirates and he knew that would lead to Tortuga. People disappeared in Tortuga daily only to be found (if at all) washed up on the beach dead. Annabelle, while intelligent but still naïve, would only end up the same if she were not protected.  
  
He felt truly horrible for denying her the only thing she had ever really asked of him. But had it been anything else he would have given it to her. Allowing her to discover her past was something he could and would not do. This was for her sake, he kept telling himself.  
  
He had hoped that this pirate business would have dissolved long ago because of her lack of memory. He had no desire for anymore pirate run-ins than he needed because of being a commodore. But now it became clear that he could not escape it. He was bound to have pirates somewhat involved in his life. Little did Norrington know just how much they would become involved in the upcoming days. 


	8. Chapter Seven

A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
Closing the door behind her, Annabelle sank to the floor in her room. Silently sobbing she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.  
  
Forget? How could she forget? How could she possibly turn her back on the times when she looks in the mirror and only sees half a person? How could she continue to work and knowing that the chance to find her father had passed her by? She'd live the remainder of her life feeling like a shadow of someone she'd never know how to be.  
  
Salt tears streamed down her face and she buried her head in her arms, wishing more than anything that she could be with her mother. Whenever Annabelle ever felt desolate her mother's strong arms would bring comfort and healing. She did not have that feeling this time. This time she was left to deal with these emotions alone.  
  
Annabelle began to get angry. Who was Norrington to say such things to her? Who was he to deny her the truth? A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered, "He is the man who took care of you when no one else cared to." But she angrily pushed that thought back to where it came from. She was angry and the irrational part of her brain wanted her to remain that way. But the sorrow she felt was quickly overruling that notion.  
  
The moonlight was peering brightly through her curtains and casting her modest room into a faint blue glow. Blinking, she tried to focus on what little of the night sky she could see through her window, wishing comfort from it. She stood up, her body trembling from crying, and made her way to the chair by the window. She ungracefully dropped her tired frame into it and stared out the window. Pushing it open she listened hard for the sounds of the distant waves.  
  
Inhaling the salt air she allowed herself to wallow in her pain before being slowly lulled to sleep.  
  
Hours passed while the rest of the house slept and yet one soul remained awake. Norrington sat in the same chair he had earlier when he last spoke to Annabelle, shrouded in partial darkness due to the dying flames. He made no move to light new ones, he barely noticed the lack of light. His heart was heavy with the thought that he had crushed the young woman deeply. He knew this day would come when she would come to him and demand to find answers. He knew from the first day all those years ago that he wouldn't be able to grant her that.  
  
He had made a promise to himself years ago that he wouldn't, no matter how much it hurt to do. She was his responsibility now even if she hated him for it. He knew she'd never outwardly show it. She would hide away her pain until it ate away at her very soul.  
  
If there was ever a time that Norrington wanted to loose himself in the burning taste of whiskey, it was right then.  
  
He forced himself not to indulge in alcohol, as tempting as it sounded. No, a hangover before work would only increase his foul mood. That and his wife. He could feel himself sinking into the depths of despair by allowing all his problems to invade his thoughts. He was simply too weary to fight it all.  
  
He relaxed in his chair and feel into a troubled sleep.  
  
The morning came all too soon for the residents in the Norrington household. And to make matters worse both Mr. and Mrs. Norrington had no patience for anyone or anything. The tension in the air was thicker than normal and the servants wished for nothing more than to escape it. However, they were all bound by their servitude to the house and had to suffer all of its moods.  
  
Annabelle was sullen, going about her chores in a mechanical fashion. When asked about her mood by Clara she said nothing on her true pain only that she had not slept well, which was not an entire lie.  
  
She dreamt of the bird again, flying over the vast ocean. She felt that it was searching for something but what she did not know. It simply glided through the air with determination. Its features were hazy but she could just barely make out the black and beige stripes over a white body. The bird was proud and unrelenting, pumping the air as it flew higher and higher. But this time, something strange occurred. Its wings began to grow heavier and heavier until it began to sink. The bird crashes into the ocean. Annabelle had jolted awake, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. To add to a restless night, the chair she had fallen asleep in did little for her back and she ached horribly.  
  
Some of the other servants commented on her mood to each other when they thought she wasn't paying attention. She ignored them for the most part. Whatever they said about her didn't matter. She simply went about her work trying to go on as if nothing in the world had changed.  
  
That same morning Will Turner found himself walking towards the Norrington household. He felt somewhat foolish for going but never the less he continued on, leaving his eldest to take care of the smithy in his absence. He didn't say where he was going but that he would return shortly in case his wife inquired of him. Somehow between their discussion the previous night and the serving of breakfast he had made up his mind to speak with Annabelle. He kept his decision to himself not because he felt that he couldn't tell his wife (on the contrary, he'd never lied to his wife in the past and the thought of hiding something from her upset him) but he'd rather not speak without knowing anything. In his mind he truly believed that Annabelle had to be the daughter of Anamaria and Jack Sparrow, not pausing to think on the oddity of the coupling.  
  
Arriving quicker than he realized, Will paused at the door. How could he get inside to speak with Annabelle without bringing attention to Norrington? No doubt Norrington would not enjoy knowing that he employed the daughter of one of the most slippery pirates in the Caribbean. He thought about using the back entrance but as a gentleman he deemed it improper. He was not at all accustomed to being sneaky or doing underhanded things. Even when he was younger and cavorting, with the pirate Jack he'd never quite gotten used to such acts. He may be a pirate by blood but certainly not by nature. He had been raised in the proper rules of society and now was not the time to break them, especially being married to the daughter of a governor, having two children with one on the way. If he was seen going through the back entrance, of a commodore's house no less, where the maids were working it would look rather questionable.  
  
But he knew he couldn't knock on the front door. He backed away from the door and turned to walk back down the pathway. He paced back and forth a bit trying to think of a way to speak with Annabelle.  
  
Fortunate for him, he was saved the trouble.  
  
"Mr. Turner, sir?" A voice called to him, causing him to jump slightly. He hadn't expected anyone to just appear.  
  
He looked up and saw Annabelle eyeing him cautiously. In the back of his mind he thought on how strange he seemed to her. It was almost amusing. She was holding a large bucket that he noticed was filled nearly to the brim with water that she struggled to keep from spilling all over herself. He offered to take it from her which she did albeit it hesitantly. It was nice to rest her arms.  
  
"I'm sorry, I did not intend to look so suspicious. I would like to speak with you, if possible."  
  
Annabelle continued to look at him strangely then nodded. She looked around for a moment then motioned for him to follow her.  
  
"I may spare a few moments but then I must return to work." She led him to a back closet just outside the kitchen that was empty. She took the water from him then disappeared out of the door to give it to the serving staff. When she returned, she kept near the doorway in case anyone was to walk by. She did not want to appear as if she were doing anything disgraceful with Mr. Turner.  
  
"What is the reason you wished to speak with me, Mr. Turner?" She asked, turning to him.  
  
"Please, call me Will." She nodded as he continued on. "I came here because I need to ask you something very important."  
  
"What do you need to ask me, Mr...Will?" She asked. It seemed that every time she was around this man he made her uncomfortable.  
  
"It's about you're mother, you said she was a woman named Anamaria?" He asked.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"I'm sorry to be presumptuous but what was your father's name?"  
  
Annabelle turned rigid at the question. Just who was this man to ask her these things?  
  
"I never knew my father, not even his name. If you came to me to ask about him I am afraid I cannot help you." She replied her brow forming into a slight frown.  
  
"And you're mother, do you remember much of her?" Will continued on.  
  
Annabelle felt her throat tighten and tears spring into her eyes. It was if she couldn't escape these thoughts! Just when she managed to find some peace this man approaches her and brings the previous night's pain back.  
  
"Why are you asking me these things?" She asked, in more of a hiss than the proper tone of voice.  
  
"I believe that I may have once known your mother." He replied, not yet wanting to bring the possibility of Jack being her father until he knew more about her mother.  
  
It seemed as if the world had stopped. Annabelle forgot to breathe and her eyes widened in obvious shock at his words. Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest. Maybe she wouldn't have to leave to find the answers she needed. Maybe he knew about her past!  
  
"You knew my mother?" She whispered moving to stand closer to him. Her eyes pleaded with him to answer.  
  
"I believe so, miss. She may be a woman I met over 20 years ago." He watched as her face lit up at his response. She turned back to the door, looking around to make sure they were alone. There was simply not enough time for this conversation. She had to return or the others would think something was wrong.  
  
"I would very much like to speak with you, Mr. Turner-I mean, Will. But I am afraid I have no time now, I must get back to work." Will nodded in understanding.  
  
"Do you by chance have any free time that you may meet me at my smithy?" He asked. Smiling briefly she nodded.  
  
"After lunch, sometimes I am given an hour or two to myself. I could meet you then."  
  
Will smiled in return. "Then we shall speak more then."  
  
Annabelle tried to remain calm but she found herself shaking like a leaf she was so excited. She had been given a chance to learn about her past, maybe even find contact with her father. The conversation with Norrington fled her mind at these thoughts.  
  
Breaking into a full grin she quickly turned to leave but stopped short of the door. She turned to him.  
  
"Wait a moment or two then return the way we came so that no one will notice you." She said before disappearing out the door. Will did as she bid him and crept out the back door in the same way he had entered. Feeling confident that he was unnoticed he made his way back to the smithy. He failed to notice one solitary gaze resting on his form fading into the distance.  
  
Clara was unsure of what she had seen. She'd been with Annabelle since she was just a young girl and she knew she'd given the girl the proper values of a young woman. Could it be her gloomy expression was over this man? Clara refused to believe that Annabelle would disgrace herself in such a way by going about in secret with a strange man. But still the thought tugged the back of her mind.  
  
Squaring her shoulders she went back to work, deciding to keep to herself what she had seen until she had time to later speak with the girl. She watched the girl move about the kitchen in a much lighter mood and felt a frown creasing her brow.  
  
When lunch time rolled around she found that much to her irritation that her mistress needed her aid in planning a birthday party for her eldest son. Clara wished she could have evaded the order and spoken to Annabelle but the girl had managed to slip out of the house before she could. Now she had no choice but to wait.  
  
AN: My apologies for the delay, mateys! 


	9. Chapter Eight

A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
Annabelle made sure that when she left the house she avoided bringing attention to herself. She didn't want anyone knowing that she headed towards the smithy. Norrington would surely think something was amiss.  
  
She walked swiftly down the streets of Port Royale, taking the same route she had the day before. The sign for Turner's smithy appeared into her view and she quickly made way towards the building. She had so many questions and at the same time she felt that she couldn't remember them all. But she finally had the chance she'd been waiting for and she made a promise to herself not to miss it.  
  
With a deep breathe she pushed open the creaking wood door and stepped inside the hot room. Closing the door behind her she scanned the room for Will. She found him leaning against a desk along the back wall reading over a letter he held in his hand. The letter looked a little old from what Annabelle could see. The paper was crinkled and discolored from time.  
  
"Mr.-Will?" She called, catching his attention. He looked up, smiled, and tucked the letter into his pocket.  
  
"Annabelle, hello." He spoke, gesturing for her to join him at the table. She moved over and sat on the stool he offered to her.  
  
"You found no trouble in getting here, I see." He said.  
  
"I managed to slip away, unnoticed. But I only have two hours at most before I am needed back at the house." She replied. He nodded in understanding, hoping that two hours would be enough time.  
  
"I want to thank you, Mr. Turner, I mean Will. You are the only person I know able to give me answers." She said earnestly.  
  
"I will do for you what I can. You're mother aided me and my wife in our youth. This is the least I can do for her."  
  
Annabelle smiled, feeling a familiar tightness in her throat. Even after years of living without her mother, the pain never truly went away.  
  
"This means the world to me." He nodded.  
  
"Before I say anything, could you tell me what you remember of your time with your mother, if you don't mind?" He asked.  
  
Annabelle nodded. She rarely spoke of her known past to anyone. Yet, she was willing to tell this man everything she knew if he would do the same for her.  
  
"My mother raised me in Spain until I was six years old, that's where I was born. She had family in Spain though she rarely kept in contact with any of them. My mother never dressed or behaved the way a proper woman should so I gather she wasn't welcome in many places. We stayed with our cousin while we lived there. She wanted to raise enough money to take us to the Caribbean. I don't think she felt at peace in Spain."  
  
Annabelle paused a moment, looking down at her hands idly playing with the fabric of her dress.  
  
"I'm afraid though that I can't remember much of my time with her. You see, when I was thirteen I suffered memory loss. It's taken time but I've regained some of my memories though not all of them. I cannot remember much after we left Spain, only a few images that tell me little of what happened. The only thing that I can say that I truly remember is finding myself in a hospital bed. Apparently I was found.." Annabelle trailed off wondering if she should tell Will about the pirate ship.  
  
If he did indeed know her mother then he would already know that she was a pirate and that Annabelle was one by blood. With a sigh she decided to tell him.  
  
"I was found a pirate ship, though what ship I don't know. No one ever told me. After that Norrington took me in as a maid and cared for me. That's all I can really tell you."  
  
Will said nothing, staring at her with a pensive expression on his face. He knew that this girl was the child of Anamaria and discovering that she traveled to Port Royale on a pirate ship only proved it.  
  
"You don't remember what happened to her?" He asked. She shook her head, still looking down at her lap. He leaned close to her and took one of her hands.  
  
"I'm sorry for what has happened to you. Your mother was a good woman and so was your father I believe." He said in gentle tones, releasing her hand.  
  
Annabelle looked up at him sharply.  
  
"You...you knew him? You know who my father is?" She asked her voice dropping to a whisper. He nodded and Annabelle fought back the urge to laugh out loud but her smile betrayed her inner joy.  
  
"Please, tell me about him! Everything you know!" She begged happily.  
  
"I'm afraid it may take a while to explain." He replied. Annabelle nodded her head in understanding.  
  
"Please, I don't care how much time it takes. I'm willing to take all the time I have to hear this. When I was a child my mother never spoke of him. And when she died I thought I would never know. But you have given me hope." Will smiled at her joy. It felt good to see her smile knowing that has never had this chance before.  
  
As a father, Will could never understand being away from his children for so long, never knowing if they were alive or dead, if they were hungry or well fed...The thought of never knowing his children made his heart constrict in his chest. He would tell this girl everything she wanted to know. He felt that he owed Jack as much, that he owed both Jack and Anamaria as much. Taking a deep breath, he began telling her about the story of Captain Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl.  
  
He told her everything from the moment he first met Jack to the last time he escaped Norrington once again. He told her how he'd come to understand how a person could still be a pirate and a good man. He credited spending time with Jack Sparrow helping him to look at life differently. He told her how Jack new his father and how even though he never followed the same path he respected the pirates he met on the Pearl.  
  
By the time he had finished the tale he noticed that Annabelle hung on his every word, like a man parched for thirst in front of a fountain. Her bright eyes were wide with curiosity. She found the entire tale hard to swallow as anyone would when talking about cursed pirate that couldn't be killed. But it was only a footnote when compared to the information on her father.  
  
Annabelle allowed the information to roll around in her mind. Captain Jack Sparrow was her father, or at least that's what Will Turner believed, but she had no real proof. The estranged and by appearance drunken captain of the Black Pearl was a man of many talents and intelligence, despite what many thought. He seemed flighty and bumbling at times but Will knew that all of his actions for a purpose and he stated so.  
  
"For all the show he put on he was very clever." He told her.  
  
"And you have not seen him since?" She asked, the hope evident in her young face.  
  
Will remained silent for a moment, his hand touching the right side of his chest, the place where the letter lay.  
  
"I saw him a scattered few moments during the last twenty-five years. It's too dangerous for him to return to Port Royale with the noose awaiting him." Will replied, folding his hands in his lap.  
  
"And Commodore Norrington, of course." Annabelle whispered softly. She didn't know how to feel about Norrington's involvement in the story. She understood his place in society. He was a man of the law and bound to it. Yet, it still upset her to know that he was the reason her father could not return to Port Royale without a most certain death. Though, she knew Norrington had no idea that Jack Sparrow was indeed her father. She couldn't even say so for sure until she met him. That is exactly what she intended to do.  
  
"You must understand, there is a law to obey, Annabelle." Will said gently, as if reading her thoughts.  
  
"I understand." Her eyes caught the glint of the blades on the back wall once more. She noted the same black and gold hilt attached to a perfect gleaming blade. Will followed her gaze.  
  
"That was to be his the next time we met."  
  
"When was that going to be?" Annabelle asked.  
  
"Shortly after my second son was born five years ago." He replied.  
  
"So you have not seen him since?" She asked, getting up and moving toward the blade. Her fingers gently touched the sharpened smooth steel.  
  
"No, I have not. He never made his last appearance. He sent word that he would not be returning but he never explained why." Will frowned at the memory. The last letter he received was short and concise. Jack explained that he would not be returning to Port Royale, whether indefinitely Will was unsure of. But it was the only word he received and no letter followed after it.  
  
"Is it likely that he may not be alive, Will?" She asked, bringing her hand back down to her side.  
  
Will bore a slight smile. "That man has more lives than a cat with the way he's escaped death time and time again. I dare say he'll out live us all."  
  
"I hope you are right." Annabelle said turning to Will. "Because I want to find him."  
  
"Annabelle-"  
  
"I know, Will. I have no idea where to begin, no means of travel. What I hope to do is probably nearly impossible but if I don't try then...then I'll..." Annabelle trailed off taking in a deep breath. Suddenly she felt so tired.  
  
"Believe me, I understand exactly how you feel. When I was younger than you I left my home in London to come here and find my father."  
  
Annabelle spun around to look at him. "Then you understand that I have to do this. How would you feel if someone told you to forget? To push aside that part of you that lay with your father and pretend it didn't matter? Could you do that?"  
  
Will was silent knowing very well that he couldn't.  
  
"I can see it in your face. You do understand." Annabelle said.  
  
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel the familiar ache spreading throughout his forehead. She was almost as much trouble as his wife when she set her mind to something.  
  
"It is not that I don't understand, Annabelle, but I what would you have me do?" He asked.  
  
Annabelle groaned in frustration. She was so close to reaching her goal and at the same time still unable to get to it.  
  
"Perhaps you can contact him? Or maybe there is someone you know who can find him! There has to be someone!" She began to pace back and forth, a habit she earned when irritated or frustrated.  
  
Will watched the girl pace back and forth and thought back. He did know someone that would have contact with Jack no matter what had happened. However, this man was older and unable to travel as easily as before. He had no doubt that he would do his best take care of Annabelle and keep her safe but he did not know if that was enough. Did he want to bring this up to her? He could very well raise her hopes for nothing. However, if he didn't say something she would soon wear a trench in ground.  
  
"There is someone."  
  
Annabelle stopped moving and stood facing him.  
  
"But what of Norrington? Surely, he will not allow you to travel on your own." Will replied.  
  
Annabelle fought the urge to roll her eyes, almost regretting Norrington's involvement in her life.  
  
"It doesn't matter. Norrington cannot know. If he were to he'd lock me in my room and prevent me from leaving the house!" Annabelle sighed.  
  
"You would keep this from him then?" Will asked, not liking the idea of keeping such a huge secret from the man who had the entire navy at his beck and call.  
  
"Do you expect me to tell him? My father is one of the only pirates to ever escape Norrington, I doubt he will be please to hear that I've gone off in search of him. What would stop him from following me to get to my father then?" Annabelle asked straining to keep her voice in check.  
  
Will was seeing little chance of talking her out of this insane quest. He was going to be in trouble with his wife for this one. Either that or she'd be angry he didn't offer to help her sooner. He smiled to himself. He was the luckiest man in the world to have such a woman as his wife  
  
"I see there is no way to talk you out of this." He said giving her a smile. She smiled in return, suddenly feeling guilty for having taken her frustrations out on him.  
  
"Thank you." She replied.  
  
Will stood up and stretched his tired limbs. How long had they been talking?  
  
"I can take you to him later on this evening after I've closed the smithy. You had better pack whatever you intend to take with you and meet me back here. You'll have to change," he looked over her attire before continuing, "Well dressed women don't go into taverns, at least it's not safe to."  
  
Annabelle looked down at her gown and nodded in understanding. She in no way wanted to be groped or mistreated if she did not have to be.  
  
"I won't be able to return until late I'm afraid, after the house has settled in for the night or I'll be caught."  
  
"Then I'll meet you here around ten o'clock, will that work?" Annabelle nodded happily.  
  
"Thank you so much, for this Will Turner!" Without warning she threw her arms around him and hugged him. Slightly surprised he drew his arms around her briefly. Blushing at her behavior she stepped back, bowed politely, then walked out the door.  
  
"I do hope you know what you are doing, darling." Will spun around to greet the sight of his wife standing in the back door behind him. He smiled sheepishly at her.  
  
"Because it would be no good for this girl to raise her hopes for nothing." She slowly walked over to him, one hand resting on her belly. Kissing her softly he pulled her into his arms.  
  
"I understand how she feels. When I was younger I refused to stop looking for my father. I missed the chance to know him. I only hope that it is not too late for her." He replied.  
  
Elizabeth nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. "You honestly believe this is the daughter of Jack Sparrow?" She asked.  
  
"I do." He replied simply.  
  
"Then do what you must to help her find him."  
  
AN: Well, I got this one out faster than the last one! I hope you guys enjoyed it (^_~) ~Anlei~ 


	10. Chapter Nine

A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Annabelle could hardly contain her excitement as she walked home. She was finally going to find him, after twenty years of wanting to know him she finally had the chance.  
  
She began wondering what kind of man her father was like. Sure, she knew bits and pieces from Will's story but she wondered what he was really like. Will had only known her father for a short time. She wanted to know what a lifetime had shaped him into. More and more she began to question why her mother had left him. There must have been something that her mother didn't like to make her leave. Did she love him? Did he love her?  
  
As far as she knew her mother had never been with another man. At least if she did, she kept it well hidden from Annabelle. Her mother spent nearly all of her time with her when she wasn't working.  
  
Why had her mother given her the name Sparrow if she seemingly wanted to forget him? At least now she knew where it came from. But it gave her little else.  
  
She wasn't sure how she felt about the story Will Turner had told her. Cursed gold? Pirates that couldn't be killed? It all sounded silly when she thought back on it. Though Will had said that whether or not the tale of the curse was believable wasn't the issue. It was the fact that her father was indeed a good man...despite the fact that he enjoyed acts of piracy and wasn't afraid to kill a man if necessary.  
  
It was exhausting to have lived knowing two different worlds. She was born into her mother's, a world of social exile from the upper levels society and acceptance from its underbelly. A life where the only law she was taught was to live for herself. Then there was Norrington's world, a place where a woman must always know her place and that certain rules must be followed in polite society. If she were to willingly enter her father's world, the world her mother lived in, could she do it? Could she cast away seven years of propriety?  
  
She had the chance to live just as a respectable woman should live, polite, demure, and domesticated. But she also had the chance to turn away from all that and understand what it was truly like to live without rules and disregard the laws of the land. Once she stepped into that world she knew there was little chance of returning to the one she now knows.  
  
The desire to find her father overwhelmed any other wish she had. She would gladly give away polite society to sit down and talk with him. She smiled to herself. She could hardly believe she even had the opportunity. It was only hours ago that she had truly lost all hope of knowing her father.  
  
She arrived at her house, hardly noticing how far she had walked. Her musings had occupied her mind. Cringing inwardly she knew that Clara would have her head the minute she stepped inside the door. She had been gone for far too long. She'd be lucky if Clara didn't skin her alive. Steeling herself, she opened the back door and quietly walked inside.  
  
Annabelle was greeted with the sight of Norrington and Clara standing in the kitchen. Norrington looked livid while Clara shot her a most disapproving glare. She could feel her stomach tie itself into knots knowing she had no hope of escaping the verbal assault she was sure to suffer.  
  
"I see you've finally decided to grace us with your presence." Norrington spat, clenching his hands behind his back. Annabelle flinched at the harshness of his tone.  
  
"My apologies, sir, I had no intention of being away for so long." She replied meekly, looking down at her feet.  
  
"Just where exactly did you disappear to, Annabelle?" He demanded, moving to stand directly in front of her. She fought not to cower under his angry stare.  
  
"I-I went for a walk." She replied, trying not to sound a weak as she did. She could hear the disbelieving noise he released from his throat.  
  
"You went for a walk? Do you normally take walks for two hours and without completing your daily work? Or have you decided to spite me because of our talk last night?" He demanded hotly.  
  
Annabelle jerked up to look him in the eye. "No! I would never-!" She stopped as he raised his hand to interrupt her.  
  
She could see him fighting to control his temper. He was not so much angry at her for shirking her duties as he was worried about her wellbeing. When he last saw her she was in a terrible state and certainly in no way fit to go off on her own. He didn't want her to do anything that would cause her injury inadvertently.  
  
"I know that you are still upset, Annabelle, but this is no way to behave! I would have expected more from you. I return from the docks so that I may speak with you only to find that you have run off without so much as a warning! You will do well to remember others in your actions!" His reprimand was sharp and Annabelle felt stung. She lowered her face to the ground.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
He sighed. He never liked to discipline her but it had to be done. He wanted to quash any sort of rebelliousness she may have felt as a result of the previous night.  
  
"Because of this I'm afraid that you will not be allowed to leave unless I have granted you permission to do so until you have gotten control of yourself. You are only allowed into the market if you are accompanied by Clara and only for household necessities. Is this clear, Annabelle?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Annabelle replied, her voice wavering. Norrington winced inwardly as she shied away from him. He felt that he was pushing her away but if he ignored this excursion then she would no doubt try it again.  
  
"Very well then. I'm sure Clara has work for you to do." He spun on his heel and walked out of the kitchen without another word.  
  
Annabelle was shaking, partially from anger and partially from feeling hurt. She didn't want to be at odds with Norrington but she had no choice. She only hoped that what she was preparing to do would not damage their relationship more than necessary. She turned and looked at Clara who scowled back at her.  
  
"You'll find no pity from me, young miss! You're lucky that I kept my mouth shut when he asked if I knew where you were." Clara hissed.  
  
Annabelle frowned. She was sure she had been careful when she left.  
  
"Don't look so surprised! I saw you speaking to that blacksmith earlier today! I had half a mind to drag you straight home myself and let you know exactly what I thought of this little infatuation you have!" Clara's face was simply furious.  
  
Annabelle looked at her quizzically. Infatuation? She thinks that I have an infatuation with Will? If Annabelle weren't so upset she would have laughed at the thought. Sure, Will Turner was handsome for his age. But to think there was room for anyone in his heart other his wife was ludicrous. She respected him too much to ever think of such a notion.  
  
Annabelle opened her mouth to refute Clara's words before she stopped herself. It couldn't hurt to let Clara believe that she did have feelings for Will. It was far better in any case than telling her the true reason she visited the smithy. Or denying having anything to do with him since she had been seen.  
  
"I was foolish. I apologize Clara." She whispered, wishing she didn't have to lie to the woman who cared for her so much.  
  
Clara's aged face softened slightly. She threw her hands up in exasperation.  
  
"I would have never expected such trouble from you of all people but I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. I had only hoped it would be someone of eligibility! Well, it's of no concern. You will forget about him, do you hear me? I will now allow you to sully your reputation by running after a married man!"  
  
Annabelle nodded. Clara shook her head.  
  
"Good. Now come on, you have many chores to make up for. You skipping out on your chores don't mean they go away by the time you return."  
  
Annabelle nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. Clara took her silence to mean she longed for Will Turner. Walking over to her, she drew the younger girl's hands into her own.  
  
"There are plenty others, my dear, that would be happy to have you. You must forget about him." Clara chided gently.  
  
Annabelle fought the urge to laugh. She schooled her features as best she could before nodding gravely. If there was something she knew she'd miss by leaving, it would be Clara.  
  
"You picked the wrong time to leave, miss. The mistress has us all running around like mad trying to prepare for her eldest. He's returning home soon to celebrate his birthday and we have much work to do." Clara said as she ushered Annabelle about.  
  
"Master James is returning to Port Royle?" Annabelle asked.  
  
"In two days time, I believe." Clara replied.  
  
Annabelle liked Norrington's eldest child, James Norrington II. He was always kind to her when she arrived at the house. He was kind to everyone under his father's employment. Though his mother disapproved of him socializing with any of the serving staff and made sure he refrained from doing it.  
  
He was his father's pride. He'd taken to joining the royal navy and had even become a captain, spending most of his time with his own ship patrolling the eastern shores. This was not to say that Norrington didn't love his youngest son just as much but Eric preferred literature and writing to battling pirates.  
  
Annabelle hoped that the return of his son would brighten Norrington's black mood, even though she was still angry with him. His eldest son brought a smile to his face every time he returned home. He was a bit of a jokester though only in a tasteful manner. They would usually spend time after dinner, just the two of them, in his study playing chess while his youngest son and his wife went off to the library. Reading was their shared passion.  
  
She only hoped that her disappearance wouldn't hinder his good mood. Inside she knew it would. Pushing those thoughts away, she went about her work.  
  
The hours seemed to pass slower than Annabelle would have liked. But it gave her time to formulate a plan of escape. She already knew she would have to sneak out of the house but how to do it without alerting anyone else was the problem.  
  
The easiest way would be to slip out her window because going out the back door meant she'd have to pass the other rooms along the way and the risk of waking someone was greater. She just hoped she could hop out of a window without snagging her dress along the way.  
  
When she finally finished her work, she ate her dinner quickly then was dismissed to her chambers. She removed her shoes and flopped, face down on her bed. She had worked harder than normal and wanted nothing more than to sleep. Despite her body's weariness her mind was alert, reminding her that she had something to do before she could even think of resting. She had to meet Will Turner once the clock struck midnight which she was sure would be soon.  
  
Rolling onto her back she stared up at the ceiling, thinking of her mother. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what happened after they left Spain. It was hard knowing that her mother was dead but never truly knowing the truth of it. She wasn't sure she even wanted to know. She didn't know if she was strong enough to handle it. Her mother was a pirate after all...that could very well mean that Norrington sent her to the gallows with every other pirate he came in contact with. But that thought made her physically sick. She didn't want to think that the man she had come to love and respect almost like a father sent her mother to her grave.  
  
Yet, even though she pushed that thought away it still plagued her from the back of her mind.  
  
Pushing herself off her bed she began to pack her things. There wasn't much that she packed; just a few necessities. The only thing of real value to her was a small shell necklace she'd had since she came to Port Royale. Her mother had given it too her. She picked it up from her dresser, fingering the smooth shell. She slipped it around her neck before taking one last look about the room.  
  
She felt something tug at her heart as she looked around. She may very well never see this place again. That thought made her sad. Somewhere in the house the clock chimed as midnight struck. It was safe for her to leave. She blew out the candle and picked up her shoes with her free hand. She began to quietly make her way to the window.  
  
She prayed silently that Clara would not pick this night to check on her. However, she knew that when Annabelle was very upset that Clara would sometimes look in on her. Placing her things on the bench she walked over to the bed and used some pillows to make it appear as if she were sleeping, just in case. Then, satisfied with her work she turned and slipped out of the window.  
  
Slipping her shoes on, she quickly made way to the smithy. The dregs of society were now roaming the streets. She was careful to avoid walking in dark shadows or running into any marines that patrolled the streets. She arrived at the smithy and knocked lightly on the door.  
  
Will greeted with a smile her then ushered her inside.  
  
"I'm glad to see you made it safely. In hindsight I realized how unsafe it is for a woman to walk the streets at night." He said looking her over.  
  
"I had no trouble." He nodded before leading her to a back room that held a small cot and a table. He had laid out some of his eldest sons clothes for her.  
  
"These are my son, Billy's clothes. He's a bit larger than you but they should fit you fine and hide your figure." He explained. "I'll be outside when you finish."  
  
Annabelle nodded and he stepped outside. She took a moment to look at the clothes. It was a simple pair of breeches with stockings, a peasant blouse, a worn leather belt, and a slightly tattered coat. A small hat lay above it all and a pair of shoes lay at the foot of the small cot. She quickly shed her clothes and changed into the new ones. It felt strangely good to stand in a pair of breeches and not feel the weight of a dress on her body. The shoes were large on her feet but aside from that the clothes fit her fairly well. She felt strangely nude without so many layers.  
  
She took down her hair from the bonnet she wore. A boy would certainly not have hair as long as she did. Grabbing the hat she did her best to tuck it all underneath. When she was finished she went back outside to meet Will.  
  
He chuckled at the sight of her. "You look like a smaller version of your mother dressed like that."  
  
Annabelle smiled, happy in any way to resemble her mother.  
  
"Just remember not to look anyone too hard in the eye. You still have the face of a young woman. I have to warn you, this man's tavern is a haven for many of the folk Norrington would rather not have you associate with. These are men spend their nights drinking rum and causing brawls in the streets. You'll have to be careful and stick close to me." He explained patiently.  
  
"I understand. I won't cause you any trouble, Will." Annabelle assured him.  
  
"Are you ready then?" He asked. She nodded, clutching her bag in her hand. He walked over to the table and picked up with looked like a sword wrapped up in paper. He handed it to her.  
  
"It's Jack's sword. You can give it to him when you run across him." He spoke, watching her slowly take the sword from his hands.  
  
She smiled, grateful for his words. She knew he said "when" to keep her spirits high. She also knew that there was very little chance of finding her father on the vast sea. But she still had hope.  
  
The two of them stepped out of the smithy and made way for the tavern. 


	11. Chapter Ten

AN: I apologize to all my readers about the delay with this chapter. I hope that the length at least makes up for it somewhat :). For a while there life got in the way of my writing but I'm back in the groove of things! Enjoy!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
Annabelle wasn't surprised to find the tavern overrun with drunks and scallywags. She had expected to find all sorts of men huddled together in the dim and dusty place, though she never expected to be somewhat comfortable in it. Perhaps it was the male garb she donned which made her feel comfortable more so than a dress would have. No one bothered to look twice at her, which she was grateful for. Will nodded to a few men who raised their mugs to him before ushering her over to the bar.  
  
He approached the barkeep, an older man, much older than Will. He appeared worn and seemed to have a slight limp as he moved about behind the counter cleaning glasses and getting drinks. His hair was entirely grey and receding a bit though not much. There were signs of age by the deep lines around his mouth and eyes. He didn't seem to notice Will as he leaned on the counter at first but then he squinted a bit before breaking out into a wide grin.  
  
"Well, I'll be...if it ain't Will Turner! Why, I haven't seen the likes of you since the days of the curse! Have a seat and I'll bring you a draft!" He laughed heartily as he hobbled about.  
  
Annabelle realized that she had run into him the other day. Looking at him now sparked something she couldn't place. She knew she had seen him before...perhaps it was only because he lived in Port Royale. Though, it seemed silly to think that she would recognize him out of the many that lived there.  
  
They both pulled up stools and sat down at the barkeep returned with a drink for Will. He took a strong glance at Annabelle, squinting a bit, before looking back to Will.  
  
"Who's the young lad? A new apprentice?" Will shook his head after taking a deep swig. He leaned in closer to avoid being heard.  
  
"Actually, if we could find a more private place to talk that would be preferable." The barkeep seemed to catch the knowing glance in Will's eye and nodded. He motioned for a woman tending to a customer and told her he'd return shortly. Standing up, Will and Annabelle followed him as he walked to a back store room.  
  
Shutting the door he turned to Will.  
  
"What's this about, lad?" He asked.  
  
Will turned to Annabelle and motioned for her to remove her hat. She did as she was told and her dark hair tumbled down like waves over her shoulders.  
  
"Annabelle, I'd like you to meet Mr. Gibbs." Will spoke gently.  
  
Annabelle stepped forward and bowed politely. Gibbs didn't move and he barely dared to breathe. He knew this girl, squinting hard at her, he knew her. He cursed his eyes for being so weak at that moment.  
  
Annabelle looked from Gibbs to Will and back again. She began to worry that she had inadvertently done something wrong.  
  
"It can't be..." Gibbs muttered to himself. Catching his words Will frowned.  
  
"What can't be?" He asked.  
  
Gibbs shook himself out of his stupor, momentarily taking a moment to look at Will.  
  
"Blast these eyes of mine! If I could properly see I'd know for sure...but it just can't be, she died years ago!" Gibbs exclaimed as he took a step towards Annabelle.  
  
"I assure you, my name is Annabelle and I'm very much alive." Annabelle interjected softly. Gibbs turned to look at her.  
  
He stepped closer and stared deeply into her face. Annabelle took a hesitant step backward.  
  
"I imagine you look just like your mama, girl." He said softly.  
  
"So you know her then?" Will asked, not entirely surprised.  
  
"Aye, if she be who I think she is." He replied. "But the last I heard of you...."  
  
Annabelle frowned. She had met this man before, but where?  
  
Suddenly her mind seemed to click into place and she remembered being in a tavern when she was really young. She remembered her mother speaking to this man...something about a ship and some mention of her father. She was too young to remember all of it but she felt the importance hanging heavily on her mind.  
  
"I've met you before...when I was very young." She murmured.  
  
Gibbs gave her a gentle smile.  
  
"Aye, that you did, child. Though I doubt you remember much. You were barely up to my knee when I last saw you. I'm surprised you're even alive!"  
  
Not knowing what to say, Annabelle looked at Will.  
  
"I think we all have much to discuss. Maybe we had better sit down." Agreeing, they each took a crate and situated themselves in the back corner.  
  
Gibbs kept squinted at Annabelle, trying to glean her appearance through his failing eyes. She shifted a bit under his scrutiny.  
  
"After all theses years...and here you are in Port Royale of all places!" Gibbs laughed.  
  
Annabelle smiled in return. "Yes, Master Norrington has been caring for me while I worked in his household." She replied.  
  
"Norrington? You've been living with Norrinton all this time? How in God's sweet name did you end up there??" Gibbs cried. It was ironic that the daughter of Jack Sparrow be found in the house of the man who'd tried to hang him on a number of occasions.  
  
"He took me in when he found out I had been orphaned. I've been a maid for the past seven years there." Annabelle lowered her eyes to her hands folded in her lap.  
  
Gibbs shot her a look of pure disbelief. "You mean to say you willingly stayed with him after what happened to your mother?"  
  
Annabelle grew stiff at the mention of her mother's death and she slowly looked up at Gibbs. Will watched the two closely, observing the conversation from the background. Apparently, Gibbs had known all along that Jack and Anamaria had a child together. Will began to wonder if Jack knew about his daughter's existence. He frowned with that thought.  
  
"What do you mean? He offered me a home, why should I refuse this?" She asked cautiously.  
  
"How could you betray your mama like that? After what he did, lass?" He asked in a strained voice.  
  
Annabelle frowned, fisting her hands. "What are you saying?" She demanded feeling apprehension growing in her mind.  
  
"Don't tell me you've so easily forgotten what happened on the Hydra! Every pirate on the waters knows about the travesty that occurred!"  
  
"The Hydra...? What?" Annabelle could feel the blood pounding in her ears. The name "Hydra" began setting off all sorts of alarms in her head.  
  
Will noticed her rising distress and decided to intervene.  
  
"Gibbs, Annabelle has lost much of her memory. She doesn't remember much of anything before living with the commodore." He said softly.  
  
The hardened gaze on Gibbs face softened considerably. His expression morphed into that of pity.  
  
"So, she doesn't know anything of what happened then?" He asked. Will shook his head.  
  
"Would you please explain to me what happened?" She pleaded, so tired of living in the dark.  
  
"Aye, you poor lass, I'll tell you everything. But I warn you, you won't like it." Annabelle nodded, steeling herself for the worst.  
  
"The last time I spoke to your mother was in a tavern in Tortuga. You were naught but six years old then. She came to buy her own ship, one she named the Hydra. She took you aboard and left to do what she did best." He bore a smirk, recalling his own days as a pirate under Jack.  
  
"I'd imagine she taught you the same even if you don't remember it all. She was good, almost as good as Jack. I'm sure she learned a lot sailing under him. Even though we didn't part in the best of terms we kept some contact now and then. But not much." Gibbs paused to draw strength to say the next part.  
  
Annabelle tried her best to remember anything about the Hydra but it seemed that her mind wouldn't let her have that particular memory.  
  
"But Commodore Norrington was and still is relentless when tracking pirates. He'd nearly nicked everyone save for a few. You're mother's ship wasn't one of those to get passed him."  
  
Annabelle felt her throat tighten. She swallowed thickly.  
  
"We all heard about it when it happened. Gave many of us quite a stir. If your mama could be taken down, it was only a matter of time for the rest of us. You see lass, one night Norrington and his crew caught up with her ship...and sent it to Davey Jones Locker in pieces. Some of the crew managed to escape to tell the tale. They say that your mama went down with the ship. I assumed that you went with her."  
  
By the time Gibbs finished Annabelle had tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt the pang in her chest. She had never imagined such a violent end for her mother. Truth be told, she refused to think on it all. Now that he had spoken, sounds of cannons filled her ears and images of a blade piercing her mother's chest filled her mind. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't be rid of them. She jumped up and strode to the other side of the room, feeling embarrassed by her crying. Will stood up and followed her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She didn't move to stand near him and he gently rubbed her back.  
  
"I'm sorry, lass." Gibbs whispered, shaking his head. It was like she had heard the news for the first time. He'd known this detail for years. But for her to hear the truth, after living so long without it, proved to be too much. She gave up the fight and sobbed onto Will's shoulder.  
  
"I wish I could stop the images from pouring into my head." She whispered wearily between her tears. Will gathered that hearing the tale had triggered something, unlocking another memory hidden in her mind. Over and over, she would see her mother's face, the shock from the blow, the blood on her shirt, the clank of the sword as it fell from her fingers. She'd never forget the look on her mother's face as she was killed.  
  
Annabelle remembered someone screaming. Somewhere her mind told her that it was her own voice that cried out all those years ago. Now that Gibbs had said it she knew she'd carry that image with her for the rest of her natural life. She almost wished he'd kept that detail to himself.  
  
She was vaguely aware that Will had eased her down onto a crate then moved to Gibbs. They began speaking too softly for her to hear.  
  
Will arranged for Annabelle to stay in an extra room just above the tavern. She'd have to stay out of sight for the most part in case Norrington or anyone under his command decided to look for her. Gibbs agreed that she could help out in order to earn some extra money. And he agreed to help her find her father. But for the moment Will saw the weary expression on the young woman's face and decided to take her to her room.  
  
Once inside she sat in a daze on the bed. "How do you feel?" Will asked taking a seat next to her.  
  
She gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Isn't that a strange question to ask? I knew that I would have to hear things that I may have wanted to avoid. I guess I never truly understood what I was asking for. I was only concerned about knowing the truth, freeing my locked memories. But there are some that I wish I could keep locked away."  
  
Will nodded in understanding. "I felt the same way when I found out my father was a pirate."  
  
Annabelle turned to look at him.  
  
"It sent me on a spin. I was raised to believe he was something he wasn't. I was also taught to hate what he was. You're father helped me to change that." Will admitted quietly.  
  
"Were you ever caught between the two, what you believe is true and what you're told is?" She asked with a small sigh.  
  
"Many times during the journey I wondered if a pirate could indeed be a good man. Then I began to question where I stood." He trailed off into thought. Annabelle listened carefully to what he said. He was the only other person she'd met to have to make a choice like she did. If he could work through it all so could she despite their different circumstances.  
  
"May I ask you a question, Will?" She asked. He nodded.  
  
"Why did you not follow your father's path?" She asked quietly. Will silently watched her face, seeing several emotions overlapping one another making it difficult to understand what she was feeling.  
  
"I loved Elizabeth more than anything in the world. She wasn't a part of Jack Sparrow's world and I couldn't bring myself to uproot her from hers, though I know that she would have gladly left everything behind to be with me. Even if I was a pirate by blood, I felt at home on the land. I'm happy to be a blacksmith and have a family." He replied as best he could, smiling at the thought of his wife and children.  
  
It was a nice thought, getting married and having a family. And so easy to settle into. Maybe one day she would have a modest house by the ocean with a husband who adored her and children running about in the yard. The thought made her smile.  
  
"Thank you, Will. You've helped me quite a bit today." Annabelle joked lightly.  
  
"Jack is a good friend of mine. After all he's done for me, I owe him this much. Gibbs is a good man though a bit rough around the edges. He'll gladly help you with whatever you need. I'm afraid this is all I can do for you." Will replied. He would have liked to travel and see Jack again after so much time but with a pregnant wife at home and a business to attend to there was little room for that.  
  
They said their goodbyes. Will promised to stop in from time to time and check on her though the tavern would be as far as he went with her. Where ever she went afterwards she would most likely be alone. She understood this all too well but it made no difference. When he was out of the door she flopped back on the bed and fell into a restless sleep.  
  
When she awoke the next morning she nearly fell out of the bed in shock. It took her several moments to calm down and remember what happened and where she was. She sat up against the headboard and rubbed her stiff neck. She hadn't slept too well at all. And guessing by the sun the hour of the day was early so she hadn't slept as long as she was used to. It was hard to feel comfortable in such an unfamiliar place.  
  
Her stomach rumbled unpleasantly, telling her to get up and find some food. She grabbed her hat, ran her fingers through her hair before tying it back at the nape of her neck, then went downstairs.  
  
In the daylight the tavern looked vastly different than at night. During the day it had a yellowish tinge because of the discolored windows. The smell of dust assaulted her nose as she walked around. The wood creaked and looked worn through. But she assumed that none of these things mattered to drunken pirates.  
  
Gibbs was slouched against the counter apparently dozing next to his mug. She decided to leave him alone and look for some food. She walked to the store room and took what she could find. There was only a bit of bread and fruit but it would do. She was already missing breakfast at Norrington's home.  
  
"I thought that was you." Startled she spun around to find Gibbs standing behind her.  
  
"My apologies, Miss Annie, I meant no harm." He chuckled at her expression.  
  
"I'm fine, Mr. Gibbs. I thought you were still asleep." She replied.  
  
"Merely dozin', miss. Come out to the floor with me while I get my mornin' drink." She stood up to follow him to the bar where he sat with a mug in his hand.  
  
"I'll be honest with you, miss, finding your father will be no easy feat. He's the best pirate in the Caribbean and when he don't want to be found he won't be. I only see him once ever few months. We usually meet at Tortuga while he attends business." He explained.  
  
Annabelle figured business meant the illegal kind. "I'm willing to go where ever it takes to find him, Mr. Gibbs."  
  
Nodding he poured himself another glass.  
  
"The next time I'm to meet him is in a few weeks. You're welcome to stay here and work for me while you wait, just stay out of sight during business hours. I don't need trouble from the marines."  
  
"I understand." She replied.  
  
They sat in silence for a bit. Annabelle bit her bottom lip, wanting to talk to him but feeling overly shy. Her curiosity won her over.  
  
"Mr. Gibbs?"  
  
"Aye, lass?" He replied, taking swig from his mug.  
  
"Could you...could you tell me about him?" She asked quietly, tracing her finger along the smoothed wood of the bar top.  
  
"What is it you want to know?" He asked in return.  
  
"Just what kind of person is he? Will mentioned him but..." She trailed off, not quite sure what she wanted to say.  
  
Taking another mug, he filled it for her. She took the mug and sniffed it experimentally. It was alcohol, she knew that much. She took a sip and coughed at the burning sensation going down her throat.  
  
"What is this?" She asked, pushing the mug away.  
  
"That is some of the Caribbean's finest rum and just so happens to be your father's choice drink. He won't go into a tavern and get anything else. Hell, any time we raided a ship and rum was found he treated it like he would gold or silver. It's an acquired taste really." He explained taking a deep gulp.  
  
"Usually after a good raid he'd take the crew into port, only ports he knew that were safe mind you, and would treat us all to drinks. We'd spend the night drinking and being merry, eating our fill of good food. We'd all sit long into the night sharing stories, sometimes playing cards. For a while your mama was his first mate, until she left that is. He was a good man as far as pirates go. He'd never leave a man down. Saved my own neck quite a few times. But that was before my legs gave out on me." Gibbs touched his knees with his gnarled hands, wishing he had the strength of his youth.  
  
Annabelle leaned closer, deeply interested in his tale. "What was he like with my mother?" She asked.  
  
He shrugged. "It was hard to tell. They were close though how close I was never sure. They were friendly though they'd rather show it in scathing banter sometimes than any other way. Both he and your mother were guarded people. It takes quite a bit to break through." He explained.  
  
"Did they love each other?" She asked softly, not looking him in the eye.  
  
"Like I said, lass, they were guarded, never letting on how they truly felt. If they loved each other, well...you'd probably have to go to Jack for that one." He said, standing up and finishing the last his drink.  
  
"Save your questions for Jack. There's no one better to answer them than he."  
  
After that, Gibbs sent her about cleaning the place, washing dishes, sweeping the floors, in short doing what most of the bar wenches would do. Whenever someone would walk in, she'd tuck her hair under her hat or quietly slip in the back room until Gibbs handled them.  
  
At night she stayed mostly upstairs in her room. She didn't mind so much. She'd rather not deal with the drunks though sitting up in her room proved to be rather boring. Though sometimes she was so tired she went right to sleep. Yet other nights she found herself wide awake thinking of what it would be like to meet Jack Sparrow.  
  
The days began to pass by fairly quickly. At first Annabelle felt uncomfortable living in a tavern with a man she hardly knew but she trusted Will's judgment. And as time went on she realized that Gibbs was fairly harmless. Annabelle was amazed that no one had bothered to try the tavern for her. Sometimes during the day Will would stop in and check on her, occasionally bringing his wife though she rarely left the house these days since the baby was due soon. In the back of her mind she began doubting that Norrington would look for her.  
  
Her hopes were shattered one evening a week later. A young naval officer stepped inside the tavern. Luckily, she had her hair underneath the hat and her head bowed so if he saw her he probably thought she were male. He sat at the bar and began speaking to her before she could duck into the back room. She tried to remain calm while silently screaming for Gibbs to make his appearance.  
  
"I'd like a drink if you don't mind." Annabelle froze when she heard the voice. Of all the people, why did it have to be James Norrington II? She nodded and quickly gave him his drink.  
  
"Thank you, might you be the owner of this establishment?" He asked. She shook her head and turned her back to him, pretending to restock the shelves.  
  
"Do you know where I might find him then?" He asked, peering heavily into her back. Her behavior puzzled him.  
  
"Would you please answer my question?"  
  
Luckily at that moment Gibbs decided to walk in.  
  
"I'm the owner of this tavern, sir. What can I do for you?" He asked, hobbling over to James. As soon as Annabelle could she swiftly ducked into the back.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Gibbs I presume. I need to ask you about one of your associates. Might we speak somewhere private?" He asked.  
  
"Aye, this way." Gibbs replied, leading him into another room.  
  
Annabelle strained to hear what was going on. But from they went into his office. Her stomach began to churn at the thought of Norrington junior in the same tavern as her. She began working out elaborate plans of escape, most of which she was sure wouldn't work. Before she could convince herself to run, both men walked back into the main floor.  
  
"I see, if you find anything please let me know." She heard James say. Only when she heard the door shut did she step back outside.  
  
"What did he want? What's happening?" She asked.  
  
Gibbs sighed heavily. "It looks like you and I are to leave for Tortuga sooner than I'd planned. We'll barter passage for tomorrow night."  
  
Annabelle was puzzled. They hadn't planned to leave for Tortuga for another week at least.  
  
"Why? Is something wrong?" She asked.  
  
"Aye, lass. It seems that commodore of yours is out looking for your father and from the sound of things, it's bad." 


	12. Chapter Eleven

A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
Annabelle went upstairs as the night began to await Gibbs. Instead of leaving a week later they had to try and find a way to Tortuga that night. It worried her that Norrington was out looking for Jack. What could he possibly want? He hadn't spoken of this man in all the days Annabelle worked for him. Whatever it was she wondered if it involved her in anyway. She hoped it hadn't. If Norrington knew Jack was her father it would only cause more problems.  
  
Gibbs came to her door at midnight when the tavern was at its busiest and most of the men were too drunk to tell the difference between night and day. He told her to meet him by the back entrance after he handled a few things. Annabelle had long since packed her belongings and left them sitting on a chair with the sword Will gave to her.  
  
She quickly braided her hair and spun it like a coil on her head which she hid under the hat. Gibbs had left a man's overcoat, which she quickly threw over her shoulders. It was worn and old and held a musty scent to it that invaded her nose quite unpleasantly. The coat itself was too big on her small frame but it hid her shape well enough. Hat and coat in tow she grabbed her effects and slipped down the back stairs to the kitchen and stood waiting for Gibbs.  
  
He was already there talking to a younger man with a scar dragging down the left side of his face. From his haggard look Annabelle gathered he was another pirate, probably a friend of Jack's. He was going to look after the tavern until Gibbs saw fit to return.  
  
The walk to the port was quiet and hurried. Gibbs leaned on Annabelle as if in need of support whenever he felt that a marine was watching them too closely. If stopped he told the officers that the young apprentice was merely accompanying him home. And if they were asked for a name Gibbs would make up one. Most of the marines stationed were too young to have made an acquaintance with him so he could easily pass them without arousing too much suspicion.  
  
Once at the port, they paid for their passage and slipped onto a barge virtually unnoticed. They moved into a small back quarter with little room for the two of them. Luckily, the trip to Tortuga would take a little over a day to complete. Gibbs rested in a chair and Annabelle sat on the bed. She crossed her legs in a mans fashion, never having that much freedom to move in a dress.  
  
"You might as well get comfortable, lass. You and I aren't to leave this room until we're well on our way. You don't get sea-sick do you?" He asked clearly not wanting to deal with it if she did.  
  
"Not so much." She replied. Though she hadn't been on a ship for quite some time, she felt at home on one. She just had to get used to it again. If she was aboard a pirate ship with her mother for so long she gathered that she must have been able to handle it or her mother wouldn't have kept her aboard for so long.  
  
"What could Norrington want with Jack...er, my father?" Calling Jack her father sounded very foreign to her. It was strange. She had never really said those words out loud. But it felt nice.  
  
Gibbs noted the change but only smiled. "What else does a commodore want with a pirate but to hang him?" He asked.  
  
Annabelle shook her head in disagreement. "But he's never mentioned Jack before. I'm sure that I would have heard something in his house. He has other naval officers over for dinner and for work all the time. And with the way the other maids gossip, especially about important matters, I would have heard about it." Annabelle argued.  
  
"For his sake I hope your right, lass. But that still doesn't explain why he'd be lookin' for Jack."  
  
He was right. But Norrington couldn't know that Annabelle and Jack were connected. Could he?  
  
Gibbs settled in with a bottle of rum and proceeded to drink himself into slumber. Annabelle stretched out on the stiff bed and grasped the sword in her small hands. She slowly pulled the wrapping from around the blade and pulled the steel from the sheath.  
  
"Mama, when do I get to have a sword??" "When you're old enough not to hurt yourself with one."  
  
Annabelle smiled to herself, feeling the tears stinging the backs of her eyes. She replaced the sword and laid it next to her things by the bed. Closing her eyes she allowed sleep to claim her body.  
  
Back on steady ground a commodore sat awake in his study, peering into the fire. His oldest son sat next to him, curiously watching his father through the firelight. Catching his son's inquisitive gaze he bore a short grin. He and his child had been sitting for nearly thirty minutes without either saying a word. He knew James was curious to know what was playing in his head and the commodore argued with himself about telling his son.  
  
"You know, you do the exact same thing your mother does when she's trying to read my mind?" Norrington remarked quietly.  
  
"Do I? I was under the impression that I behaved mostly like you." His son replied with a happy grin.  
  
"You share a few qualities with your mother."  
  
Silence fell over them once more and James fidgeted in his seat in a manner unbecoming of a naval captain.  
  
"Just say it, James. I'm your father here not your superior." Norrington murmured gently. James looked to his father and shrugged.  
  
"It's just that I've never quite seen you like this before unless you and mother had a rather brutal row. You seem to be having more of those lately. Is it because of that pirate you had me looking for?" James asked.  
  
"Sparrow is only part of it." Norrington replied.  
  
"Then you're worried about Miss Annabelle, I suppose?" His son asked. Norrington was quiet, not entirely wanting to delve into that subject.  
  
He knew he had driven Annabelle to leave. That didn't surprise him. It worried him more than anything. She barely knew anything about the pirate world unless her memories suddenly decided to come back. Even so, he hardly believed that she would be capable of dealing with the situation alone. How could she simply run off like that?  
  
"She is rash and young. She's acting out of her heart rather than her mind. I merely worry for her safety." Norrington replied stiffly.  
  
James raised a dark brow in disbelief. "Father, if you would have me to believe it were so simple, you would have to try harder." Norrington ceased gazing into the fire and turned to his son, sternly. Though, his son would not cower from that gaze like he used to.  
  
"I can see that you care for her as if she were your daughter. I wager that is the reason you and mother argue so often." James remarked bravely. The subject of his parents fights were not something to speak of without feeling the need to duck for cover.  
  
Norrington opened his mouth deny it, only to sigh and lean back in his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair, having long removed the cursed wig for the evening.  
  
"It's no secret that your mother and I...disagree on many things. This so happens to be one of them, yes." He admitted quietly.  
  
"I don't understand. You've never treated any of the other maids the way you treat her. Why did you bring her to our house?" James asked.  
  
He was not jealous but merely curious. He knew that his father loved him and he, in this situation, had a better life that Annabelle did. He had his father and he was grateful he did not have to endure what she did. However, even though is father was indeed a caring man underneath it all, it surprised him when he walked in the door that day with a dark skinned, morose looking child behind him.  
  
Norrington was quiet, inwardly debating if he should tell his son the secret he had kept for so many years. He had made a promise, one he now failed to keep. He knew his son well enough to know that he could be trusted. And he would need all the help he could get in order to deal with the situation. No, his son did not deserve to be left in the dark.  
  
"I made a promise many years ago that I would care for her in the event that no one else could." Norrington sighed.  
  
"You mean this is something more than simple charity father?" James asked, growing more and more curious as the moments went on.  
  
"Yes. In a way it was a debt I owed in honor of my life." Norrington rubbed the space above his eyes, feeling the headache growing.  
  
"I don't understand." James replied.  
  
"No, of course not, son. You haven't heard the entire story. But I suppose now is a good time to tell you. Let me tell you how I came upon Annabelle as a child." Norrington remarked, allowing his memories to drift back to that particular night all those years ago...  
  
Commodore James Norrington, one of the highest paid men in the navy, most dedicated, loyal, respected, and more importantly the only man able to locate and track down nearly every pirate ship in the Caribbean, found himself at the mercy of one.  
  
"It looks to me, that we have ourselves quite the situation here, mate." Spoke a voice in the silky, drunken drawl that could only belong to Captain Jack Sparrow.  
  
Norrington sneered, irritated at himself for having been so foolish. He was unprepared and caught unawares. Jack Sparrow was only too happy to rub this little mistake in his face. He was practically beaming from the fact the he—a lowly pirate—had managed to actually surprise the infamous Commodore. He could imagine it now; he'd be even more renowned than he already was. But that wasn't the best part. The best part lay purely in the look on the great Commodore's face.  
  
"What sort of games are you playing at, Sparrow?" He demanded clearly struggling to keep his anger in check.  
  
"Now, now, Commodore, no need to get your perfect knickers in a twist. S'not everyday we get to have such a rendezvous'." Jack Sparrow grinned from ear to ear.  
  
Norrington suppressed the urge to groan in irritation.  
  
"There's not a day that goes by, Sparrow, where I would actually want to be in your presence. What do you want from me, revenge?" Norrington remarked impatiently.  
  
He wanted nothing more to go home. He was tired and hungry and not at all prepared to deal with a pirate in the side alley of a tavern. Nor was he entirely in the right state of mind. He'd tossed back a few drinks with some of his fellow officers, not enough to render him helplessly drunk, but enough to keep him off balance. And if it's one thing that Norrington was sure of, it was that Captain Jack Sparrow was no easy match with a sword.  
  
"Nothing of the sort, in fact. Merely a word or two then I'll be on my merry way." He replied silkily.  
  
Norrington fought the urge to snort, knowing very well that a "word or two" could mean could mean trouble for him, the sort of trouble he'd only live to regret.  
  
"Might there be a place we could talk, commodore?" He smirked, devilishly.  
  
"What makes you think I'll go anywhere with you, Sparrow?" Norrington asked.  
  
"I just saved your life, commodore. You at least owe me that, mate." He replied, gesturing to the two bodies strewn across the ground.  
  
Norrington glanced at them and scowled. He hadn't seen them coming. Rather, he'd been a bit too foggy to notice. He was thoroughly surprised when they'd been defeated, by a pirate no less. He quickly overcame the surprise and replaced it with anger. In the back of his mind he was confused. Why would Sparrow save him? What could he possibly want, other than to do the job himself?  
  
"What say you, commodore? Willin' to give a pirate your trust for a bit?" He grinned, half hearted and showing his gleaming gold teeth.  
  
Norrington fought the urge to throw the invitation back in the pirate's laughing face while grinding his teeth into dust. After all, he was partly curious, no matter how foolhardy it seemed. He wanted to know why Jack Sparrow, a man he chased around the seas and tried to hang—a number of times—wanted an audience with him.  
  
"My trust, Jack Sparrow, is not something you'll be receiving. However, I will allow you the chance to explain yourself." He replied in a huff of irritation.  
  
"Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
Settled in Norrinton's office, a rather bold move on Sparrow's part, the pirate made himself comfortable in one of the chairs by Norrington's desk, sweeping his dirty boots upon the surface. He leaned back and smirked, fully enjoying the position he'd put the officer in.  
  
"Kindly remove your filthy boots from my desk, Sparrow." Norrington demanded none too nicely.  
  
Raising his hands in defeat and shrugging helplessly, Jack placed his feet back on the floor.  
  
"Speak up, Sparrow. There is very little keeping me from locking you behind bars." Norrington spat.  
  
"Oh but you won't be doing that will you, commodore? Despite the rather large stick up your arse you're a man of honor, a man of your word. Which is why I sought you out tonight."  
  
"What do you mean?" Norrington place himself in the chair directly in front of Jack, careful to keep on guard.  
  
"I need a favor." Jack replied. It was the only time Norrington had ever see him act normal, without the drunken, clownish flair he normally had.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Norrington sputtered, eyes narrowing. What was the world coming to when Captain Jack Sparrow came to him for a favor?  
  
"No games, commodore. Just a simple, request, really."  
  
"I am not at your beck and call, Sparrow. And a request from you would be something I'd surely regret." Norrington scowled.  
  
Jack Sparrow reclined in the chair with a strange glint in his eye  
  
"You have a son, don't you, commodore? Smart young lad, probably wants to be just like you when he grows up I'd wager, hunting lowly scallywags and all..."  
  
Fear gripped Norrington's heart and he felt as if he'd been doused with ice water.  
  
"If you in ANY way lay a hand on MY son--!" Norrington was barely able to keep himself in his chair.  
  
"Calm yourself, man," Sparrow began, interrupting him, "I haven't touched your precious son, savvy?"  
  
"Then why--?"  
  
"I got one of me own, a daughter, I mean."  
  
This admission surprised Norrington a bit. And made him even more suspicious.  
  
"What does she have to do with me?" He asked, calming down.  
  
Norrington watched as the spark faded from Jack's eyes. The change was barely noticeable but he managed to catch the fleeting sadness that washed over his darkened face, before he hid them away.  
  
"I'm asking you to look after her."  
  
Norrington could barely keep the shock off his face. Jack wanted to entrust the care of his daughter to him. He was half tempted to look out into the night sky and see if pigs were flying around.  
  
"Why have you entrusted this task to me?" He managed to ask.  
  
Jack was silent for a moment, watching the commodore closely.  
  
"Tell me something, commodore, why is it you didn't have me killed? You had the perfect chance, with me and the boy surrounded and all. You're greatest nemesis would be dead right now." Jack asked.  
  
"You are hardly my greatest nemesis, Sparrow." Norrington snorted, not willing to give him that satisfaction. Though it was probably enough to know that he could easily get under the commodore's skin.  
  
"Bob's your uncle, mate." His lips formed his trade mark devil-may-care smirk.  
  
Why had he let Sparrow escape?  
  
Begrudgingly, he admitted to himself that it was because, despite how long he had hated pirates, Turner was right. Jack Sparrow was a good man, albeit a bumbling and rather tiresome one but still good nonetheless. He never did feel that secure in hanging the pirate that day. Though, as shameful as it was his pride and position kept him from releasing the pirate. Norrington remained silent, unsure of what to say.  
  
That blasted smirk only widened.  
  
"Just as I thought, mate. Didn't have the heart eh? Can't blame you really, can't resist me charms." He murmured.  
  
"Another word and I will have you hung." Norrington threatened, both of them knowing good and well that it was an empty threat.  
  
"I want to make sure my Annie's in good hands." He replied somewhat softly.  
  
"And you believe I can do this? Why is she not with you? Norrington asked, watching as Jack's expression hardened, revealing nothing about how he felt.  
  
"Let's just say the woman and I had a disagreement."  
  
"Why not Turner? Surely, he'd be happy to take her in."  
  
"The boy's got enough problems of his own. Being married to that blasted woman's trouble enough..." He replied. He liked Elizabeth and he wished Will all the luck in the world to be able to handle her.  
  
Norrington secretly agreed. Elizabeth was a firecracker of a woman. She fit into the role of a noble woman well. But when she set her mind to something, nothing short of a bullet could stop her and maybe not even that. He smiled inwardly. His own wife mirrored the same fiery spirit as well.  
  
"Besides, as a commodore, I'm sure you could overlook one or two things, bend the rules a bit, eh?" Jack added.  
  
Of course if he took in a child of a pirate and kept her as a maid in his house, none of his crew would dare to question him. He was well respected and he knew they would look the other way.  
  
All of this seemed strange. First, his fleet brings down the Hydra the previous night, which prompted some celebration among his fellow officers. Then Sparrow appears after having evaded the commodore for years. Now that the fog had begun to clear away from his mind he remembered hearing about one child found and placed in the infirmary for a head injury.  
  
"Your daughter, she's the young girl they found on the Hydra, is she not?" He asked.  
  
"Aye." He replied simply, watching the other man.  
  
"I must say, Sparrow, this comes as quite a surprise. The men under my command sunk that ship and could have very well killed your child and here you are asking me to look after her."  
  
"I know for a fact, commodore, that you haven't set foot on a ship in years. You probably had less to do with that attack than you did with the hangings."  
  
It was true. Since the black pearl, marriage, and children, he had somehow changed. He didn't fully realize it until one morning over breakfast that he hadn't been putting much effort into going after pirates. He had left the task to his first in command and resigned himself to protecting the port. In fact, he realized with some surprise, that he had lost the drive for persecuting pirates. He scowled to himself wondering when he had become so soft.  
  
"Have you been keeping tabs on me?" Norrington demanded.  
  
"Someone's got to keep you on your toes, mate." The pirate shrugged.  
  
"I have a wife and two sons, Sparrow, I don't need any more help than that."  
  
Norrington leaned back in the chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. By God, he was actually considering it. And the more the thought about it the more he realized that he was actually going to do it. His wife would have his head for this, he was sure.  
  
"Do we have an agreement?" Jack's smooth drawl interrupted his thoughts.  
  
"If I am to do this, you cannot be waltzing around Port Royale simply because I have done you a favor. I am able to bend the rules for her. You, on the other hand had better hope that no one under my command finds you or there will be nothing I can do this time." Norrington replied carefully.  
  
"No worries, mate. I'll not return here, as long as I know you treat her right." The glint in Jack's eyes went from playful to dangerous as he spoke. It was obvious that he loved the girl very much. Norrington figured it must have hurt to not be involved in her life. He shuddered at the thought of their roles being reversed and never being able to see his sons again.  
  
"You have nothing to worry about. She will not come to harm." Norrington assured him.  
  
Not much was said afterwards. Jack resumed his normal swagger and demeanor and bid goodnight to the commodore. He swept out of the room and keeping to his word, had not shown his face in Port Royale since.  
  
As Norrington finished the tale he noticed that his son was sitting on the edge of the chair, wringing his hands.  
  
"You've known this entire time who she was and who her father was, and yet you've kept this a secret." James remarked, not sure how he felt about the situation.  
  
James had been raised in a black and white world. Pirates were bad and naval officers were good. And it was up to the navy to make the seas safe from evil pirates. Pirate captains and naval commodores do not make deals in the dead of night, especially not his father.  
  
"And now you're trying to find Sparrow. You believe she will go to him."  
  
Norrington watched his son go through several different expressions in the span of a few minutes. Truth be told, he was glad to have told his son, feeling better than keeping the secret to himself.  
  
"No wonder mother had gotten so angry that day." James muttered to himself, still reeling from the story he had been told.  
  
"I promised to protect her, son, just as I would have you or Eric. I feel that I have failed my task." Norrington replied, feeling the failure gnaw at his brain.  
  
James offered his father a weak smile. "If she's anything like her father then I doubt there was much you could have done to keep her here."  
  
His father smiled.  
  
James took a deep breath and looked at his father. "I promise that I will help you find her and we will keep her out of harms way."  
  
Norrington gave a smile as his thanks. His son retired to bed, leaving him to his own thoughts.  
  
AN: Yay! I finally finished this blasted chapter! I apologize for its lateness but I am have a most difficult time trying to write Jack Sparrow. He's such a complex character! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it, any constructive criticism on Jack is welcome! ~Anlei~ 


	13. Chapter Twelve

AN: Hello all. I know it's been a while, probably the longest hiatus I've ever taken! I am not the fastest writer, sorry! Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy it. Maybe the length will make up for the delay. :)  
  
A Sparrow's Daughter  
  
By Anlei  
  
Chapter Twelve  
  
By the time Annabelle awoke, the ship was already pulling into Tortuga's noisy port. Having left Gibbs in the cabin to go explore the deck, Annabelle first noticed the utter chaos of the town. There were both men and women toting pistols and blades, stumbling around in drunken stupors. Some were even unconscious on the docks, bottles of potent alcohol strewn beside them. Tortuga was indeed everything Port Royale was not. The cleanliness and the order were no where to found in this port. The differences between the two were so striking, Annabelle truly felt that she was about to step into the underbelly of the pirate world.  
  
It would be a lie to say she wasn't nervous. Her memories of this place were sketchy but then she was looking through it with the eyes of a curious child unable to understand danger.  
  
Gibbs had awoken and was now standing beside her, looking completely alive as the ship slowed to a halt. Tortuga was a home for him, a place where he could go to be comfortable being who he was. Annabelle was amazed to find it mostly in tact. She figured the navy would have long since swept those grounds. But then again she figured Tortuga was well beyond any form of order.  
  
"It ain't what it used to be...but it's still as strong as I remember." Gibbs remarked roughly.  
  
"How long has it been since you've been to this place?" She asked curiously.  
  
"Not for years, missie. Not for many years..." Gibbs trailed off into his own thoughts. Annabelle left him to gather her things.  
  
When she returned they departed from the ship. She clutched her bag over her shoulder and held the bundled sword tightly in one hand. She did remember one thing strongly about Tortuga: If you left anything unattended, even if it was on your very own back, it became free game for anyone to take.  
  
Annabelle stuck close to Gibbs while they slowly walked through the streets. She kept on guard, not wanting to accidentally be on the wrong end of a pistol. Although she was slightly frightened, she couldn't help but feel fascinated.  
  
"If there's anything you're to learn while you're here is that despite its seediness, no one here gives a rat's ass what you wear, what you do, or who you do, missie." Gibbs remarked bluntly.  
  
Annabelle blushed a little bit but managed to hide it. Looking around she understood what he said. The only people here were the ones that society looked down upon, whores, pirates, unwed mothers, thieves, killers, and every sort of criminal known to man. All of these people were free in this place. As strange as everything in Tortuga seemed to Annabelle, who'd never really known anything other than Port Royal, she was enthralled.  
  
They reached a small inn, where they paid for two small rooms beside each other. Once inside Gibbs told her to never leave anything of value alone in the room. Even the inn keepers were sneaky.  
  
"You've got an hour to get yourself cleaned up before we're to meet with a friend of mine. Don't go wanderin' about without me. It's best you just stay in your room for now." He warned her as she settled in her small room.  
  
"How long will it be until we find my father? Am I to stay in my room until then?" She asked, clearly not liking the idea of being confined to her room for more than a few hours.  
  
Gibbs sighed. He was not at all equipped to deal with young, innocent women, with not means of defending themselves. Especially not the daughter of Jack and Annamaria (that alone meant she would be more trouble than he'd bargained for).  
  
"I made no promises to you, missie. I never said this would be fun. Tortuga's no place for someone who can't use a sword or even shoot straight." He said bluntly, leaning heavily against the door frame. Annabelle shot him a small glare.  
  
"Well then..." she began, thinking on something she had been wanting to ask for a while now, "couldn't you show me how to use them?"  
  
Gibbs shot her an incredulous look. "Are you daft girl? There's a reason I'm no longer part of the crew of your father's ship. Teaching swordplay requires two good legs lass, which you can see, I don't have and—."  
  
"What about using a pistol then? You could at least show me how to shoot properly. And you could show me the basics of using a sword, at least!" Annabelle protested.  
  
"You don't know what you're asking!" He argued.  
  
"I'm only asking to be able to protect myself. It would foolish of me to believe that everywhere we go will be as safe as Port Royale." Annabelle's brown eyes pleaded with his, and he knew in that moment he was going to give in.  
  
Gibbs felt a strong urge to make his way down to the bar and order the largest serving of rum he could afford.  
  
"I knew you were going to be as much trouble as your mother." He muttered.  
  
She smiled at him, sweetly. "Thank you."  
  
"Now you listen here! I can teach you a few pointers but that doesn't mean you get to run around and do what you want. You're not to leave the inn without me. I doubt Jack would be happy finding his only child raped and murdered and washed up on the shore somewhere." He told her sternly. She nodded eagerly.  
  
"I mean, what I said, lass." He began in a gentler tone. "Tortuga's no place for naive young ex-maids with no world experience."  
  
Annabelle nodded. "I understand."  
  
With a sigh, he granted her a grin. "You're well on your way to becoming a pirate, missie. Next you'll be asking me how to pilfer gold from the well to do members of society."  
  
He left her to her own devices and disappeared down the hallway.  
  
That same morning in Port Royale, Norrington fought to keep his face devoid of any expression that would upset his already livid wife further. He and his oldest son had been trying to leave without confrontation with Mrs. Norrington but she would have none of it.  
  
"How can you leave now?! James, your party is to be in a few days! Nearly half the town is appearing to honor that and you stand before me about to leave, again! You just returned home!" She nearly screeched angrily.  
  
James shifted uncomfortably. He hated to make is mother upset, especially when she had been so happy preparing for his return. He hadn't seen her this happy in a while. But accompanying his father was much more important than a birthday gathering.  
  
"Mother, please, this is important. Father and I must go." He pleaded, his hat clenched in one hand.  
  
"What could be so important that someone else under your command could not take care of it?" She demanded, her tiny hands placed upon her hips.  
  
Taking a deep breath, James opened his mouth to reply when his father answered for him.  
  
"This is something I must handle personally and James wishes to accompany me." He replied smoothly in a voice that left no room for argument.  
  
Rebecca Norrington's eyes flared, turning her attention to her husband.  
  
"You intend to go gallivanting off in search of that girl, don't you?" She demanded, her voice low with barely restrained anger.  
  
Commodore Norrington, quickly seeing this "discussion" would obviously lead to a fight quietly dismissed his son to wait for him outside. James hesitated leaving his father but did so without argument, knowing their "disagreement" would develop into an all out verbal brawl. He had no desire to witness such a fight between his parents. Once gone, Norrington turned to his wife.  
  
"There is more to my leaving than that, Rebecca." He replied calmly. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
"Oh? What more could there be James? She goes missing one week and you tell me that you are to leave the next! Why do you insist on keeping that girl around? She's not your child, James! You have no responsibility toward her!" Rebecca's voice rose to a shout, as it always did when concerning Annabelle.  
  
Norrington could feel the migraine seeping into the frontal area of his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wondered what he could do it avoid the oncoming fight.  
  
"I brought her into this our home therefore she is my responsibility. How many times must we go through this?" He asked, feeling his resolve slipping.  
  
"She's a servant, James! Not a member of this household! How is she any more your responsibility than the rest of the 'hired help'?"  
  
"Rebecca, I do not have time for this!" He shouted abruptly. His wife looked momentarily startled before her face fell back into that angry scowl.  
  
"Of course you don't! You never do unless it's to chase after that girl!" Rebecca angrily spun around and allowed him the view of her tense back. "Well go on then! Leave me here, alone!"  
  
Norrington found his anger fading and wanted to reach out and draw his wife into his arms. But she, with all the fury in her petite body, stalked out of the room, slamming doors and startling every maid in the house. Schooling his features, he turned and walked the opposite direction to where his eldest was waiting outside. James didn't bother questioning his father for details, the rigid lines in his posture said enough. Instead he focused on the task at hand.  
  
"Where do you propose we go to find Sparrow?" James asked, keeping his voice low.  
  
"If there's one thing I learned during my time spent with him, it's that Mr. Sparrow was never one to keep a low profile and he's known to frequent certain ports. One in particular more than the others." Norrington grimaced at the mere thought of setting sail to such a place.  
  
"Where is this port, father?" James asked.  
  
"Tortuga." He said, cringing as if the word itself tasted foul.  
  
James looked at his father in surprise, then smiled. "You know. if mother ever finds out where we're going..."  
  
"If you are as intelligent as you would have me believe, son, you will do well to make sure she never does."  
  
James gave a short laugh, following his father to the carriage waiting just beyond the gate.  
  
After twenty minutes had passed, Annabelle found boredom creeping into her system. She wasn't supposed to leave the inn, let alone her room. She couldn't even go downstairs to the bar, not that she particularly wanted to. It wasn't like her home with the NOrrington's, where she had a number of chores to do every day. Or even working at Gibb's tavern. She had nothing.  
  
Annabelle could feel the urge to go exploring growing stronger. Despite the apparent danger of being unfamiliar with Tortuga, she was eager to walk the streets and watch the people. It was something she'd done as a child. Since she spent the majority of her time with her mother rather than playing with nearby children she would often sit and absorb the world around her. Even as a child she was fascinated with people. Then she'd later barrage her mother with questions.  
  
"Who are they, mama? What are they doing, mama? What's that, mama?" She'd ask seemingly all in a row.  
  
"Blazes, child! Don't you ever tire of asking such questions?" Her mother would tease her, pretending to be tired of answering them all. But Annabelle knew otherwise.  
  
Annabelle had been restless since she'd entered Gibbs' rundown tavern. She was growing impatient. It was her first time leaving Port Royale in years and here she was, forced to stay in her room until Gibbs would lead her off to whatever it was he had planned. In the back of her mind she understood that it was only for her protection and her safety. But she wasn't entirely focusing on that.  
  
She was too busy focusing on her utter fascination with Port Royal's polar opposite. She began pacing in her room, looking from the door to her window and back again. She fidgeted on one foot to the other.  
  
Technically Gibbs had no control over her. She could very well leave and he couldn't stop her. Annabelle immediately felt guilty about such thoughts. This man was willing to risk his own neck just so she could find her father. He'd offered to look after her wellbeing. And this is how she chose to repay him? She shook her head, willing the guilt to leave her. Unfortunately, it didn't. Shaking her head ruefully, she wondered just what kind of pirate she would be if she was too afraid of breaking the rules.  
  
All the pirate blood in my body pales in comparison to the years spent being a proper maid. She thought  
  
A few angry shouts had diverted Annabelle's attention from her thoughts. It sounded like two men violently arguing in the room across from hers. Knowing she should ignore it, her curiosity got the better of her and she cracked the door open to try and get a glimpse of what was happening. She noticed the door was slightly ajar and only one person could be a seen. It was haggard looking man, well beyond the days of his prime, cowering against the wall. She heard the sound of glass hitting the wall and the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking. Annabelle's eyes widened.  
  
"I swear, I don't know nothin! I did me part, as promised! I don't know nothin' please, don't kill me!" He begged in a strained voice with tears falling down his face. Whoever he was talking too terrified him.  
  
"You failed me one to many times, Jonesy. If I remember correctly, and I do, you had one bloody job to do!" The mystery voice began in a soft, calm tone before escalating into a near shriek.  
  
"I did my best, I swear it!"  
  
"Do you have any idea, all the trouble I've been put through because of you?! No, of course not! You're just as useless as a crippled hound, aren't you? And you do realize what happens to them."  
  
She thought about closing the door and pretending that she was ignorant of anything outside her own room when the man turned and locked gazed with her.  
  
His stare betrayed his fear and silently pleaded with her for help. It was a look that made Annabelle's stomach churn. Then something in his eyes changed. His eyes became hysterical, frantic. Annabelle had the feeling that if he wasn't at gun point that he would have barreled out of the room straight for her.  
  
"I think you've wasted enough of my time." The other man said, back to his calm unflappable tone.  
  
Thoroughly shaken, Annabelle forced her arms to close the door with a resounding click but not before she heard the last words of a desperate man.  
  
"Wait!! I can fix it! I know where--!"  
  
A shot...  
  
...the sound of a body tumbling to the floor...  
  
...then silence.  
  
A pair of boots could be heard walking down the corridor and fade into the distance.  
  
Annabelle remained frozen against the door, feeling guilty for something she knew she couldn't have helped. And yet the man's eyes wouldn't leave her. There was something in his last looks that made her feel exposed.  
  
She slowly backed away from the door, the backs of her knees hitting the lumpy mattress. She sat down, trying to calm her nerves. The harsh reality of Tortuga had given her a swift kick to the stomach and she fought hard not to vomit. Gibbs was right.  
  
Just what had she been thinking? Could she really live like this?  
  
What upset Annabelle the most was that for some reason, she kept seeing her mothers face instead of his, the last look she had before dying. Why she saw that was beyond her reasoning.  
  
It was another hour before Gibbs had come knocking on her door. The sound made Annabelle leap from her bed to the floor, vaguely wondering if it would be wise to slide under her bed and hide. The part of her mother that still lived within her was disgusted by that idea.  
  
"Time to go, lass."  
  
Annabelle sighed in relief. It was only Gibbs. After a few moments she allowed herself a small smile. Whoever that strange man was, he was long gone. And he had nothing to do with her.  
  
Grabbing her hat and coat she threw them on, before gathering the rest of her valuables and stepped outside to great Gibbs.  
  
"Tuck that sword into your belt, missie, and pull your coat around it. It's a nice blade and someone other than me just might like it a bit too much." Annabelle nodded and did as she was told.  
  
"Who are we going to meet?" She asked as they made their way down to the inn's bar.  
  
"An old friend of mine by the name of Twigs, friend of your father's too. Since he does business with him often, he's one of the few people to know where we can find him." Gibbs replied, pushing his way through the crowd of drunken customers to a small table in the back, relatively secluded. Once there, they both took a seat, Annabelle tugging her hat lower over her eyes.  
  
"I spoke to him earlier, he's agreed to teach you a thing or two about sword play." Gibbs added, already nursing a mug he snagged from a wench walking past.  
  
Annabelle looked at him sharply.  
  
"You said you wanted to learn how to fight, missie. He can do a better job than I can." Gibbs remarked before she could question him.  
  
"Will this delay our efforts to find my father?" She asked.  
  
"You can't expect to learn anything in one day. Besides, we'll be staying here a while." He replied in a tone that made Annabelle stare at him intently. Was there something he wasn't telling her? Deciding to leave it be for now, she looked away and into the crowd.  
  
"I...saw someone killed today." Her voice going quiet.  
  
Gibbs looked at the girl beside him, remembering that she wasn't used to this kind of lifestyle.  
  
"It's not as uncommon as you think, missie." He replied softly. She strained to hear him over the noise.  
  
"I know. I just didn't expect to see it again." Annabelle bit back the lump rising in her throat and surprised both Gibbs and herself by taking a deep swig of his rum. Coughing, she handed the mug back to him, still having trouble with the burning sensation going down her throat.  
  
"You had better get used to it. I daresay looking for your father...you're going to see more of it. It's best not to have a weak stomach." He replied in a way that seemed terribly blunt, callous, and caring at the same time.  
  
Trying to shake the images out of her head, she turned to him with another question.  
  
"What sort of name is Twigs?" She asked curiously.  
  
"It's what people used to call him when he was a boy because he was nothing but skin and bones. They used to say he was a few twigs put together. When he got older and entered the "business" he took the name. Says he don't want people to know his real name." Gibbs explained, drinking the last of his rum. Annabelle wanted to ask what Gibbs meant by the word "business" but she figured, at this rate, she'd find out sooner or later.  
  
It wasn't much longer before "Twigs" made an entrance to the bar. Annabelle immediately noticed that without trying to, this man stood out from the crowd. He was taller than most of the room's occupants and so thin that he looked almost emaciated. He had straggly dirty blond hair tied messily at the nape of his neck and a scruffy beard to match. He made his way over to a bar wench, leaning down to speak with her before he was pointed in their direction. His dark eyes locked directly on her as he made his way over to their table. Annabelle looked away, meekly.  
  
She ventured another look at him as he sat down with a hearty greeting from Gibbs.  
  
"So this is the surprise you brought me out here to see, Joshamee?" He asked, jerking a thumb in her direction, "Don't see what so special?" He turned and faced her fully, heavily scrutinizing her. Annabelle frowned in return. This man was going to teach her swordplay? Annabelle found herself wishing it was Gibbs instead, even if he could barely use both of his legs.  
  
"Once I tell you what I know, you'll think otherwise. And didn't I tell you never to call me by my first name?"  
  
Annabelle listened silently as Gibbs revealed who she was. She had been expecting a reaction close to Gibbs. Instead, he merely stared at her as if he thought she had spun an elaborate lie and somehow dragged Gibbs along for the trip. After giving her another hard stare (to which she glowered, annoyed) he continued conversing to Gibbs, ignoring her all together. Annabelle wasn't too surprised. Something in his posture screamed distrust at the girl across from him. At the moment she didn't care. Her only interest was hearing news of Jack Sparrow. However, the two decided to speak on lighter subjects, catching up on lost time. Annabelle sighed, looking around the room.  
  
Eventually, her eyes landed on a table where a group of men were playing a game of cards, using their daggers and pistols to try and intimidate the other players. A man with a red scarf and scars decorating his bare forearms caught her eye and sneered. She lowered her eyes and looked away, back to Gibbs and his strange friend.  
  
Somewhere, in a dark corner, a man nearly choked on his drink, eyes glued to the back of the dark skinned woman dressed in men's clothing. He trembled with anxiety, hardly believing his luck. He jumped up from his chair, knocking over a few others in the process and dashed out of the room, unnoticed.  
  
AN: Wow! So glad to get this chapter out! It finally took me some time but I've got some momentum again. I won't make promises about updating soon but I promise, I haven't given up! Reviews always welcome. Anlei 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

A Sparrow's Daughter

By Anlei

Chapter Thirteen

Commodore Norrington and his son stepped out of one of Port Royale's seedier taverns, where most well do to citizens strayed away from. Norrington was not at all surprised to find that the tavern owner had left town, on "business" and left it in the care of a trusted friend. Rather, he cursed himself for having not thought of it before.

If Norrington was going to find Jack he needed a connection, someone who could give him the precise time and location of Jack's next appearance in Tortuga. And very few men would openly admit, to him of all people, that they knew of Jack's whereabouts. He had loyal allies and enemies who were simply not quick enough to track him down. Gibbs would have been his easiest link in Port Royale, had he still been there.

Of course, he never considered the possibility that Annabelle would get to him first.

Joshamee Gibbs was probably one of the only men in Port Royale who knew both Jack Sparrow and Will Turner and was involved in the events of the Black Pearl. And the only man involved who was not locked behind bars, dead, or gallivanting off with pirates. He was cleared of any charges due to the favor of the Governor and his help in rescuing his daughter.

That meant he could easily lead Annabelle to Jack without any problem. Had the years really addled his brain so much that he was loosing his sharpness as a commodore? He should have foreseen this problem. He should have sought out Gibbs the minute he'd discovered Annabelle missing.

No, he shouldn't have needed to speak to Gibbs at all. Annabelle couldn't have possibly known about Gibbs. It was too strange that she had disappeared with him, assuming that she actually did leave Port Royale with him.

"Father, my visit here the day before had proved fruitless. I doubt, even if this man were here, that he could help us find Annabelle." James spoke.

"James, do you not find it odd that the day after you spoke to him, he has conveniently taken a holiday?" Norrington asked, ignoring his sons comment. He frowned to himself, as they both walked toward the carriage.

"It might if I understood this man's connection to Jack Sparrow." His son replied. Stopping abruptly, Norrington turned to his son.

"Gibbs used to sail under Sparrow. He was the man's first mate until some incident or another left him crippled."

"But how would Annabelle know of him? You said before that she had no knowledge of her father. Why would she go to Gibbs?" James asked, thoroughly perplexed.

Why indeed...

Before Norrington could ponder more on the situation, he felt a gentle hand on his arm. He turned to see the weathered face of Miss Clara standing before him.

"Clara? What in God's name are you doing here?" He asked.

"My apologies, sir. I did not mean to pry into your business. I noticed your carriage heading this way as I was shopping for today's meal. If I may ask, are you truly searching for Annabelle?" She asked, her old eyes anxious with worry.

"I am." He replied and she sighed with relief. She stepped closer, lowering her voice.

"Then I would suggest going to the blacksmith. If I had known that her infatuation with him was so strong...I would have kept a closer eye on her." Clara bowed her head, her voice laden with guilt.

"Infatuation, with Mr. Turner?" Norrington asked in disbelief. Surely, Will Turner of all people would not...

Of course! Suddenly it all made sense and again, Norrington berated himself for being so blind.

"Thank you, Clara. Return home, my son and I will pay a visit to Mr. Turner." He said, ignoring for the moment that Clara had not spoken of this once he first discovered Annabelle missing. He didn't wait for her response and walked swiftly back to the carriage, his son in tow. Once inside, the carriage sped off toward the Turner Residence.

No matter how many times Will had been in this position, he'd never get used to it. Staring down into the tiny, pink, face of his newborn daughter, he felt the same amazement and utter adoration that he felt with his first two children. Without even trying, his newest child had him completely smitten and wrapped around her smallest finger. He knew from that day on he'd never be able to deny her anything. This tiny bundle, calmly gurgling in his arms only served to reaffirm that he had made the right decision in marrying Elizabeth and starting a family with her.

"What shall we name her, darling?" His exhausted wife asked, smiling weakly while she watched her husband and daughter.

"Perfect." He said without really thinking. Elizabeth gave a tired laugh.

"I hardly think that's an appropriate name for our daughter, my love." He managed to tear himself away and give his wife a happy grin. Elizabeth reached out for their daughter and Will reluctantly and gently placed the infant in her waiting arms.

"What about Isabelle?" Will suggested, grinning when his wife shot him a look that clearly meant "no."

"My darling, Isabelle is a fine name." He teased.

"We are not naming her off that ridiculous woman who seems to always find you in the marketplace. It's not nice to tease your wife after she's given birth to your child." She mock scolded him without taking her eyes off their daughter.

He moved closer and kissed her sweaty forehead. "Don't you mean given birth to the most beautiful child in the world?" He asked as he reclined against the headboard, gathering his wife into his arms. She laughed.

"Just you wait until young gentlemen come to call for our daughter's hand." She teased. "What about Hallie?"

"I'd rather not think about suitors coming to take our little girl away just yet," he replied, "and I once knew a girl named Hallie back home in London, she used to throw rocks at me whenever she saw me." Elizabeth gave him a curious look. He smiled sheepishly at her.

"I shoved her into a mud puddle one afternoon when I was five years old. I received a good lashing from my mother when she'd found out what I'd done." Elizabeth laughed heartily and snuggled deeper into his arms.

"Such a troublemaker as a child, no wonder Michael is so active, he must take after you."

"According to your father, you were very troublesome yourself."

"I was the model child, my father must be mistaken."

"Of course. What...what about Winifred?" Elizabeth felt Will's muscle tense slightly as he posed the question. She turned to him with questioning eyes.

"The name of your mother...?" She asked. He nodded.

Elizabeth smiled brightly. "I absolutely adore it. It's settled then, her name will be Winifred Turner." Will only responded with a gentle kiss.

"Shall I go retrieve the boys to meet our little Winnie?"

Elizabeth nodded, feeling the remnants of her energy fading away. Will pulled himself away, not before kissing her softly, and quietly walked out of the room.

His feet led him down the hall and the stairs of his rather opulent home. Marrying Elizabeth meant being supplied with a rather handsome dowry. Governor Swann, or rather the newly retired Governor, refused to leave his only daughter with the fate of being a blacksmiths wife and made sure that she and her new family were well provided for. Will never admitted to his wife but he felt that her father never truly believed he could be a good husband for her. Of course, he accepted Will as his daughter's one true love and treated him respectfully, but Will was sure he'd be much happier if Elizabeth had married Norrington instead. That thought always stung and he tried not to dwell on it.

Now on the first floor, Will was greeted with the sight of his eldest son, looking very anxious about his mother's labor.

"You have a new sister. We've decided to call her Winifred." Will spoke simply, watching the joy on his sons face. William Turner III, or Billy as he was known to his family and close friends, had always loved children and wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by siblings. When he first discovered he was going to be an older brother he was overjoyed and spent weeks by his mother's side, watching her belly grow.

"May we see her now?" He asked. Once Will nodded, Billy dashed off to find his younger brother. Will waited patiently for them to return when a rapid knock on the door diverted his attention.

To his slight surprise, he opened to the door to greet both the Commodore and his eldest son before him.

"Commodore Norrington, please come in." Will stepped back from the door and graciously allowed them inside.

"You both have come at an awkward moment. My wife has just given birth to our new daughter." Will announced, beaming with silent pride.

"I apologize but I'm afraid offering congratulations in honor of your newest child is not the reason for our visit. Perhaps we could speak somewhere, in private for a moment?"

Although as hesitant as he was to leave his wife for longer than necessary, Will agreed and led them into the study.

"I'll not detain you for long, Mr. Turner. I know how anxious you must be to return to your wife's side. You see, a few weeks ago, I discovered one of my maids had gone missing during the night."

Will tensed slightly, knowing exactly who the Commodore spoke of, but remained outwardly calm. Inside he wondered how Commodore Norrington could have linked him to Annabelle.

"I see. What does this have to do with me?" He asked, feigning ignorance quite well. But Norrington was not fooled.

"I think you know all too well." Will shrugged his shoulders, knowing that he had been found out.

"I take it you mean, Miss Annabelle."

Norrington resisted the urge to grind his teeth. He and Will had gotten along well enough, despite the tension their mutual love for Elizabeth had caused. But that his kindness only extended so far.

"One of my servants is under the impression that you and Annabelle are entertaining some sort of liaison. It didn't take much for me to figure out exactly why you were involved with her."

Will was taken aback.

"So you are aware of her parentage, then?" He asked, genuinely surprised.

"I have been aware of it for quite a few years, in fact. It was her father that asked me to care for her. I don't think I have to explain just who he is."

Another shock. So it really was Jack who fathered Annabelle and Norrington knew all along. With another sigh, Will decided to tell Norrington everything, hoping to get some answers in return.

"I recognized his eyes looking at me through hers the day you sent her to my smithy. Afterwards, I happened upon her one evening and discovered the identity of her mother. Once she knew that I was once acquainted with her mother, she begged me to help her. I sent to her to Gibbs."

"Who is now missing. I can only assume that he has taken her to Tortuga. I hope you realize the sort of the danger she may face trying to find Sparrow." Norrington remarked, feeling anger creeping into his system.

Will frowned at the silent accusation.

"She would have left regardless. Better a trip to Tortuga with Gibbs than wandering alone."

Will was right, of course. But Norrington never did take well to discovering that people kept certain details from him. Never the less, he understood the logic.

"I am not here to argue with you, Will. I merely require your assistance. She is my responsibility and I would not have her harmed." Will noted how weary the commodore suddenly looked. His age seemed to show briefly, before disappearing behind a controlled mask once again. James seemed to notice it too.

Will wanted to ask more questions but he knew they had little time to spare. Answers would have to wait.

"I'm afraid there isn't much that I could tell you. I sent her to Gibbs because I could not accompany her myself and I knew she would have more luck with Gibbs than me. I haven't spoken to Jack in years. And I haven't been to Tortuga in over 20 years."

Nodding, the commodore motioned for his son and they prepared to leave.

"I see. We shall simply have to try our luck in Tortuga."

As they reached the door, Will stopped them.

"When you...if you find Jack, are you going to...? Will you arrest him?" Will asked, the worry evident in his eyes.

"You have no need to worry."

They said their farewells and Will watched the carriage drive away towards the port. Turning to rejoin his wife, he could only hope that whatever happened now that it would be for the best of both Jack and Annabelle.

The sun had begun to set, signaling the end of another day. Tired, sweaty, and horribly sore, Annabelle wished it meant the end of her lesson. By the first hour of sword fighting, Annabelle had no doubt in her mind that Twigs took pleasure in exhausting her. By the fifth she was more than ready to say "hang it all" and simply wrap her hands around his thin neck and strangle him.

After Gibbs had explained the situation to Twigs, he left the two of them to practice sword fighting while he disappeared. Annabelle wanted to strangle him for leaving her alone with this strange man who seemed to harbor nothing but ill feelings for Annabelle.

Idly twirling his sword, Twigs looked at Annabelle hunched over her knees in disdain.

"Hard to believe that Jack and 'Marie had such a weak brat. Try it again!" Not only did he bark his orders to her and work her into the ground, when he wasn't instructing he was insulting her.

Annabelle glared at him before moving into position, facing Twigs. Following the motions, she faltered in her step and Twigs easily disarmed her, again.

"How the hell do you expect to survive a fight if you can't even hold onto a weapon, woman? Do it again, and this time, do it right!"

Annabelle, biting her tongue, walked over to her fallen sword and picked it up again. She stepped into position for what seemed like the millionth time with the glare that would be permanently etched into her face at this rate.

"Go on and glare at me, brat, as long as it makes you do things right. Don't know what I was thinkin' when I agreed to this."

I do not know what I was thinking when I asked to learn, Annabelle thought.

This time Annabelle actually managed to execute the move but still missed the following swing of Twigs blade. As a result, she barely had time to dodge the attack. The blade barely nicked her upper arm but still managed to draw some blood.

"You ain't much like your mama, are you?" He taunted nastily.

"I barely know my mother, she died when I was thirteen and what memories I had of her then were robbed from me by the blunt end of a pistol. Hard to be like someone you can't remember." She spat, clutching the cut on her arm.

"Might be easier if you weren't such a helpless wench and quit fussin' over that scratch, you're lucky it ain't worse." He raised his sword again and Annabelle was forced to do the same, trying not to think about how nice a bath would be instead.

She prayed this torture would end in the next hour before her body gave way to exhaustion. But by the cruel look in Twigs' eye she knew it was a foolish thought. Her jaw ached from grinding her teeth and she'd long since developed a headache from glaring. She'd be lucky if she didn't come out looking as haggard as Gibbs by the end of it.

It was pure determination that drove her to continue instead of throwing down her sword and stomping away. Annabelle desperately wanted to know what it was like, to be able to hold her own in a battle. It was this aspect of her parents lives that they could not survive without and she, as silly as it seemed, felt guilty for being so weak and defenseless. When she met her father, she wanted to be able to show him that she was proud of her pirate heritage, that she was proud to be the daughter he created with Anamaria. Maybe then...maybe then she wouldn't appear as hopeless as she felt. Maybe then she could stop worrying that he had no desire to be a part of her life...

The question of why bothered her nearly every night since she'd be orphaned nearly seven years ago. If her father did indeed care for her, why didn't he come for her? Annabelle knew the question was childish. There was a chance her father never knew she even existed...or that he wasn't even alive.

But she refused to give up hope. She had to meet him; she had to know the man who helped give her life. Whether she liked it or not, he was a part of her, a part that simply would not quiet down and disappear.

Cedric Gray was not at all a patient man. When he wanted something to be done, he wanted it completed as soon as possible. So naturally when his plans for revenged came to a grinding halt he turned his entire home upside down and shot a few of his subordinates out of anger.

He had been so close....so close to bringing the elusive Captain Jack Sparrow to his knees years ago, only to have it snatched away at the last moment. Needless to say, the denial of revenge caused him to be consumed by his hatred. It seemed as if Sparrow would always win, no matter how many times he tried.

But after years of waiting and plotting, it seemed he would finally have his chance.

"You're telling me that you believe this young woman you saw and the rumored lost child of Jack Sparrow are the same and in Tortuga as we speak?" Cedric asked, Curtis, the trembling young man before him. He fingered the trigger of his pistol as a silent threat. He was not about to get his hopes up once again because of a quick glance in a bustling tavern.

"Can't be no one else, sir, I swear it. Saw her with me own two eyes!" Curtis replied quickly. He knew exactly how "ugly" Cedric's temper could get and he had no desire to see it directed at him.

Cedric was silent for a moment as he regarded Curtis with intense scrutiny.

"Your own two eyes, you say? Well then, if you're wrong you won't mind if I cut out those eyes of yours now will you?"

Curtis tried to remain calm even though he could almost feel the cold, sharp blades of Cedric's favorite daggers forcing his eyes out of his sockets. He resisted the urge to vomit.

"N-n-no, s-sir."

Cedric smiled cruelly, enjoying the look of fear in the boy's eyes.

"Very well then. I want you to continue watching this woman and report to me everything you know. If I find out that you are lying, and you had better not lie to me boy, then I'll kill you. Now get going."

Curtis wasted no time leaving to begin his assignment. Cedric smiled in glee as he began to form a new plan.

Soon, very soon, I'll get my revenge.

AN: Thought I died? Nope, I'm still here. Just be patient with me because I don't like to post chapters if they seem inferior to anything I've written before. Please excuse any grammar mistakes I make and as always, reviews are more than welcome! Anlei


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